Strong, When I Wasn't
by satsumio
Summary: AU Pre-Origins. An absurd bit of fluff exploring pre-Blight Ferelden. Elissa catches the attention of King Maric and discovers a terrible secret he's hiding. Ferelden is an odd nation though, and the King finds himself bullied rather imperiously by "Bryce Cousland's spitfire." It's time someone finally stood strong when he couldn't. The rating is M because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

The ring of steel against steel reverberated across the sandy floor of the melee circle. Gasps from the crowd alternated with roaring cheers as the combatants exchanged blows. The challengers would break apart, circle, and then lash out again as they each sought a weakness in the other.

"Oh well done, Fergus!" Arl Eamon chortled and nodded appreciatively to Teyrn Bryce Cousland, the father of one of the combatants. The teyrn squinted critically at his first born, but he too nodded his head to acknowledge his son's strike.

A young woman in a grey silk gown sat to the teryn's right. She sniffed derisively and muttered a comment under her breath.

"What was that, pup? Didn't quite hear you," the teyrn's eyes twinkled as he drew her into the conversation.

"I said his shield was too low," the young woman spoke just loudly enough to be heard over the crowd. The bright Ferelden spring sun shimmered against her golden hair where it coiled around her head in a braided coif.

"Bann Estan's son should have exploited that, but he over compensated his parry," she continued with another sniff, "I would have done better."

"Sibling rivalry at its finest," Bryce gave his daughter a fond smile and shrugged at Arl Eamon.

"Aye, she reminds me of my own sister," the Arl's eyes were warm and only carried a hint of sad regret.

"Elissa greatly admires Queen Rowan's feats," Bryce said respectfully, to which his daughter nodded solemnly.

Gasps and another cheer rose from the crowd as Bann Estan's son made a surprising comeback against Fergus Cousland. Further conversation was halted as the onlookers leaned forward to watch the battle.

Her eyes only half on the combatants, Elissa shifted so she could cross her legs – lady like, she reminded herself firmly, and loosely folded her arms across her breasts. Not enough to crush them, she recited her mother's practical advice, but not to seem like she was hiding them. It was just a place to put her arms on the uncomfortable bench. She sat on a cushion, as did most of the nobles, but it still grew tiresome after a time. Her gaze shifted idly around the gallery where she sat with her father. As one of the two Teyrns left in Ferelden, Bryce had seating of his choice in King Maric's royal gallery. Maric and Bryce were good friends and had been since the Rebellions that freed Ferelden from Orlais' occupation decades before. As such Bryce could have chosen to sit right next to the king's seat, but he chose instead to sit a few spaces away. The teyrn felt that Eamon and the arl's younger brother Teagon should sit closer to the king, as Maric's late wife was their sister.

The argument was mute in Elissa's mind; the king wasn't even present at the melee. He likely wouldn't show up until later in the bouts, when the champions of the various challenges fought. A king had more to worry about than sitting through days of qualifying trials before the grand finales. The king's son on the other hand, was a completely different story. Prince Cailan sat to the left of his father's chair. He was cheering mightily right along with the crowd. There was little in the world to trouble the young prince and he relished the entertainment. As Elissa's eyes continued to scan the box she caught the eye of Lady Anora Mac Tire, daughter of Teyrn Loghain, Maric's closest friend and adviser. She was also Cailan's betrothed, a fact she made sure Elissa kept firmly in mind. Elissa fixed a bored expression on her face and nodded a small acknowledgement of her peer. Anora returned the nod and allowed the smallest smile to touch her lips. She also very casually reached out to grip her betrothed's hand in a silent signal of superiority.

Elissa didn't acknowledge the gesture, simply allowed her gaze to roam across the rest of the crowd until it returned to the combatants just as her brother bulled his opponent over, holding his sword to the young man's throat. Cheers rose through the crowd, and Elissa rose to her feet to applaud along with her father. She didn't try to hide a proud grin when her brother reached down to assist his vanquished foe up. They slapped each other on the back good naturedly and the two raised their swords to resounding roars of the crowd. The men marched out of the sand ring side by side and servants rushed in to prepare for the next event.

* * *

"Your brother fought well, Lady Elissa," a young noble maiden smiled winningly up at Elissa. She returned the girl's smile politely and readied herself for the expected conclusion of the conversation she'd had with a dozen other ladies that night.

"Lord Fergus puts great stock in his martial prowess, Lady Elaina," the teyrn's daughter murmured into her wine goblet.

"Indeed, I couldn't help but notice that. My lord father also noticed," the girl continued brightly, a hand fluttering lazily in the direction of her lord father, a gesture Elissa was expected to follow. She would expect Elissa to acknowledge her family's nobility, they would exchange pleasantries that would lead to the girl seeking an invitation to Highever as Elissa's guest so that Elaina would have freedom to harass Fergus for several weeks.

"You must excuse me, Lady Elaina," Elissa suddenly whispered conspiratorially, lifting a hand to her bodice and feigning a wild eyed look, "I do believe I see Arl Stenton's son coming this way. Could you please distract him for me? He's been pursuing me relentlessly all evening."

"What? Oh my! Of course, my lady," Elaina dipped a quick curtsey and swirled elegantly to address Elissa's fabricated foe. Elissa smiled her thanks and then disappeared into the crowds mingling aimlessly before supper with King Maric and the royal family.

Elissa kept a pleasant smile plastered on her face as she wove through the crowd. She stopped to exchange pleasantries with several of the nobles. Few were peers, which meant she had to deal with a great deal of flattery from nobles seeking Highever's favor. She drifted purposefully until she finally reached a knot of young nobles near her age. Her brother Fergus was among them, laughing and smiling brightly as he recounted his victory to the cheers of the men and fluttering lashes of the ladies.

"I'm getting very tired of fending off marriage bait for you," Elissa murmured when he finally finished his most recent retelling. She took delicate sip from her wine and eyed him meaningfully over the rim of the crystal goblet.

"I'm eternally grateful for your patience, little sister," Fergus grinned, making the neatly trimmed beard that framed his mouth stretch. His dark chestnut hair, so much darker than his sister's golden locks, gleamed in the light of dozens of braziers and candelabras.

"This would have been much more pleasant if you'd just announced your engagement before we left Highever," she pointed out with a meaningful glance toward the young maids making eyes at Fergus.

"Yes well, you know the negotiations aren't done," he shrugged helplessly, a touch of frustration pulling his mouth down into a frown. His impending marriage was a love match, but their father was one of the most powerful nobles in Ferelden and his bride was from a fantastically rich merchant family in Antiva. There would be no running off to elope for the young couple.

"Be glad they're chasing me," Fergus continued with an impish grin, "It's a distraction from pursuing you."

Elissa made an indelicate sound and took a long drink from her wine, upending the glass in a way that would have offended their mother. Her grim expression had her brother laughing, his head thrown back. That drew further attention from the knot of young nobles, who pulled him back into their conversation. Elissa excused herself and made her way to the balcony that stretched one length of the great hall in the King's palace. She accepted a fresh glass of wine from a passing servant before stepping outside into the cool fresh air. More than a few nobles were outside seeking refreshment from the stifling great hall.

Those nobles included her father, mother, Arl Eamon, his brother Teagon, and King Maric. Elissa paused her sedate walk and studied the group. They were smiling and laughing at something the King had said. It was genuine laughter shared among friends rather than the tittering mirth of insincere nobles. Maric stood much taller than anyone else in the group. Even Arl Eamon, the tallest after the king, only stood just a bit above Maric's shoulders.

The King's famously gold mane of hair was pulled back at his temples and tied in a plait at the back of his head. Silver streaked back from his temples and sprinkled his beard, but other than that there was little to indicate the King was well into his fourth decade. His bright blue eyes sparkled, and his face was unlined save for a few laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He had forgone his typical gold inlaid silverite armor in favor of a green doublet with gold embroidery. In all, King Maric was the epitome of what anyone with an imagination thought a king should be.

Elissa resumed her sedate pace and quietly stepped up to her mother's side. The Teryna gave her daughter a small smile and stepped out of the circle entertaining the King.

"Everything all right, my dear?" Teyrna Eleanor was still stunningly beautiful, at least in Elissa's eyes. Her blond hair had settled into a steel grey and there were perhaps a few more lines around her pretty mouth, but the woman still stood tall with a lovely figure that made younger women envious. Most failed to realize the teyrna's physique was from rigorous martial training that Elissa's mother maintained despite years of peace in Ferelden.

"I'm going to murder the next insipid noble maid that asks me to invite her to Highever," Elissa murmured in a soft aside to her mother.

Eleanor gave her daughter a sympathetic hug and her eyes twinkled, "Any young noble gentlemen seeking such an invitation as well?"

It took a heroic effort on Elissa's part not to make an indelicate sound, "Several, but the only one I would consider would be Bann Thomas' son."

Eleanor quirked an eyebrow, "He's nine, Elissa."

"Exactly," Elissa took a serene drink from her wine.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good morning to you, Lady Cousland," Vaughan, the son of Denirem's Arl Urien, rode up alongside Elissa's bay gelding. His mount was a spirited grey stallion that he clearly wasn't up to controlling. The horse danced and mouthed the oversized bit in its mouth.

"My lord," Elissa nodded politely, pointedly reaching down to pat her horse's neck. The bay bobbed its head, but otherwise continued to stand serenely under her.

"I'm delighted to see you joining us for the hunt, my lady," Vaughan's eyes were as bright as his smile. He wore light hunting leathers in honor of the day's activities. To Elissa's practiced eye they looked unworn, likely commissioned specifically for this event, and just as likely would be discarded once it was over.

For her part Elissa wore a fine set of leather armor dyed blue and embossed with the Cousland family laurel wreath. The armor was well-worn enough to be quite comfortable. It was well cared for though, and did not show wear.

"It's an adequate diversion," Elissa shrugged and leaned down to adjust a long dagger belted to her right boot.

"Is your visit to our fair capital so unexciting for you, Lady Elissa? Perhaps you might do me the honor of hosting you during your visit," Vaughan offered genially before biting off a curse as his stallion chose that moment to give a halfhearted attempt to buck him off. He pulled savagely on the reins until the animal grudgingly quieted.

Elissa eyed the Arl of Denirem's son and nodded slowly, "I'm honored, my Lord. I'll speak with my Lord father."

"Splendid! There's a great deal of our city I'd love to show you," Vaughan's grin was unseemly wide, and Elissa escaped as hastily as propriety allowed. Thankfully she was saved from further harassment when the Master of the Hunt blew his horn, signaling the start of the day's entertainment. Hunting dogs belled enthusiastically and there were several deeper barks from the mabari scattered among the nobles. Elissa felt a pang of envy watching the hounds as they danced below their master's feet. Her father had a respected mabari kennel and had promised his daughter one day one of the fiercely intelligent beasts would imprint on her. She only had to be patient.

Elissa sighed and loosened the reins as the crush of nobles and their servants began to stretch out into the orchards outside of Ferelden's capital. She'd heard from her father that in Orlais they had an entire "forest" artfully manicured just for hunts like this. Her bay stretched out his neck and eagerly pranced for a moment before she released him. He darted forward and snaked around two stately mares ridden by two of her mother's lady friends.

Distantly Elissa could just make out the royal party at the head of the hunt. King Maric was unmistakable in his golden armor and atop a great black charger. The horse had been a gift from Arl Howe of Amaranthine, a fact the Arl let few forget.

"Good morn to you, Lady Elissa," a voice called out from among the riders. Elissa spotted another young noble's son pushing his mount through the crowd to greet her.

"Maker's breath," Elissa hissed under her breath, "Will I get no peace?"

* * *

Elissa urged her gelding into a gallop, moving easily with each flex of the beast's muscles. She held her bow and two arrows with one hand while the other guided her mount around obstacles as she paced the buck fleeing the hunting party. The dogs ran as a pack and then broke into groups at a sharp command from the hunt master. Nobles streamed along behind, some with more enthusiasm than others. Elissa spotted the buck as it dodged around a cluster of birch trees and anticipated a quick course correction that sent it perpendicular to the hunting packs. She pulled hard on the reins of her horse and pressed her heels into his flanks. She leaned into the turn as the bay smoothly followed the buck's path.

She was nearly close enough for a good shot and brought her hunting bow up. In one smooth motion she lifted one of the arrows from her holding hand and notched it against the string. She took a single deep breath, exhaled, and sighted. She was a heartbeat from loosing the arrow when a shadow bounded into view. Vaughan and several other young nobles crashed through her line of sight, spoiling the shot. Vaughan's face was bright red and his teeth were barred in a snarl. Elissa bit off a startled curse and glared at their backs as her horse pulled up short. There was no way they hadn't seen her ready to take the shot. She felt her lip curl at their appalling breach of hunting etiquette.

Her shot lost, Elissa lowered her bow and urged her gelding into a trot. Moments later the hunt master's horn trumpeted brightly across the fields. The second pack had flushed something. She sighed heavily and turned her horse, trotting in the direction of the new prey. She hadn't gone far when another group of riders moved up on her flank, this time without rudely cutting off her path.

"There you are, pup!" Bryce Cousland called out to his daughter and Elissa smiled, reining her horse in to join her father and King Maric. The two rode side by side, with Maric's royal guard spread out a respectful distance away.

"Your Majesty; Father," Elissa bowed over her horse's neck to greet both men, "How goes the hunt?"

"Oh, the usual," Maric shrugged his wide shoulders, "Bryce and I sit back and watch the nobles make fools of themselves fighting over tiny pelts and antlers to put on their walls."

"That sounds far more entertaining than being part of the chase, my lord," Elissa gave the king a small smile.

"Oh certainly!" Maric grinned widely, his beard framing a flash of white teeth, "The first of the horns spooked Urien's boy's horse. Tossed him on his ass. He went tearing off into the woods back that way."

Elissa thought back on her encounter with Vaughan and her grin matched the King's. Another horn blew, announcing that someone had taken one of the animal's down. Elissa let her horse have his head when the King and her father both kicked their mounts into a run. The trio bounded out of the sparse vegetation of the birch forest and out onto an open field where some of the nobles had gathered to admire the kill.

At some point their order had shifted and Elissa rode to Maric's right while her father rode to his left. They slowed to a walk until a squire ran up to accept the king's reins so he could climb down and give his congratulations. Elissa barely kept her expression under control when her lip tried to curl up in a rude sneer. Vaughan Kendells stood proudly next to the buck. The animal's neck was twisted at a sickening angle and the only arrow she could see was embedded low and wide on the buck's back leg. Hardly a killing shot. More likely the animal tripped and twisted its neck in a frantic bid to escape the hunters.

Elissa and her father sat quietly on their mounts until the king returned, accepting the reins of his horse back from the squire as he remounted.

"A fine looking buck," Bryce said, his lip twitching into a smile.

"A blind Orlesian fop could have made a better shot than that," the king muttered once they were moving again.

"Speaking of Lord Vaughan," Elissa twisted in her saddle to ensure they had privacy, discounting the king's guard, "He's extended an invitation to his estate so he can show me around Denerim, Father."

"You need to be shown around Denerim?" Bryce raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to look at his daughter around Maric's bulk.

"I do not," she replied primly, "And I would very much appreciate it if my Lord Father found a reason to decline the invitation."

"Of course, my dear," Bryce replied sagely, "I wouldn't want my sweet daughter's constitution to suffer from exposure to Denerim's more unseemly sights. You've been terribly isolated up in Highever."

"How did you say that with a straight face?" Maric inquired curiously.

"Practice, my king," the teyrn answered, "A great deal of practice."


	3. Chapter 3

Music flooded the great hall of Maric's palace where dancers spun and strutted about the wide stone dance floor. The tables of the hall were pushed up next to the walls and filled to bursting with desserts and other light refreshments suitable for the evening's festivities. It was the final night Wintersend and the King's annual gathering of the nobles. Tournament winners were congratulated formally by the king at a ball in their honor.

Elissa drifted among the party goers. She occasionally stopped to exchange pleasantries, and even accepted a few dances with polite suiters. It was all a grand show but she was more than ready to be done with the painfully formal gatherings of the last fortnight. She was ready to go home to Highever where she could wear her comfortable leather armor instead of absurdly impractical gowns.

Tonight she wore a full skirted confection of Orlesian silk in Highever blue trimmed with silver. Her father had commissioned it during his last visit to Val Royeaux and she was fairly sure he hadn't paid as much attention to the style of dress as he probably should have. He'd blanched and choked on his wine when she'd descended the stairs of their capital estate. The skirts were long and full, accentuating her narrow waist and soft curves. The fabric of the arms gripped her snuggly from wrist to capped sleeves at the shoulder, from which the bodice plunged scandalously low.

It was also likely the reason the attentions paid to Elissa by the gentlemen nobles redoubled to absurd levels. Elissa felt a throbbing headache start at the base of her skull as she was passed from one noble son to the next. It wasn't even just the youths, either. Several older gentlemen slid in to claim a few dances with her, making her feel more and more like a brood mare being put through her paces at an auction.

When she was nearly at her limit and readying to make an excuse to escape the fawning another request for a dance startled her speechless.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" King Maric extended his hand out to Elissa, and though he didn't bow low over his hand like all her other partners did, he did incline his head appreciatively as his gaze swept across her body.

Habit and drilled manners kept her from staring like a star struck fool. She released the feather light grip she held on her already forgotten partner and slipped her long fingers into Maric's outstretched hand. He wasted no time in sweeping her out onto the floor. Elissa didn't even notice the sputtering indignation of the noble she abandoned.

Maric was an excellent dancer and Elissa found herself smiling brightly when his hand slid around her waist and he raised their hands to lead the way into a lively waltz. She fervently vowed to thank her mother profusely for insisting Elissa master dance as well as her more martial interests.

"You've gathered quite the following this visit, Lady Cousland," Maric remarked conversationally as they whirled, "I can't recall you standing out quite so much in years past."

"Put that way, I have to wonder if you're referring to the flattery or infamy," she smiled and shifted her grip on his upper arm. His hand rested lightly on her waist and there was a comfortable gap between their chests.

"Perhaps a little of both. I understand Arl Urien's son was quite disappointed that your father politely declined his invitation," Maric raised an eyebrow and shifted their course around a knot of less coordinated dancers.

"He did? How very unfortunate," Elissa replied with wide eyed innocence, "But I cannot be anything other than a dutiful daughter. I shall suffer my father's strict governance of my affairs."

Maric's blue eyes danced with bright amusement, "An obedient child is truly a gift from the Maker."

"So I'm to understand," she murmured, demurring with feigned breathlessness before wrinkling her nose delicately, "Augh, I can't keep that up."

"You are a delight, my Lady," Maric laughed, spinning Elissa in a dramatic flourish as the music swelled and then drew her back close to his body. Her hip brushed against the front of his doublet as the tempo increased, urging the dancers into a more vigorous style. Many of the older dancers abandoned the floor, leaving room for the more energetic youth.

As an of age daughter to a high ranking noble in Maric's court, Elissa knew she could expect one short dance from the King. There were a great number of noble ladies deserving of his attention, so it surprised Elissa that he would sweep her smoothly from one dance into another. It must have shown on her face, because Maric winked conspiratorially and whirled them into the music. The dance was lively and challenging, meant to be a diversion for younger ball goers who found mingling and more traditional dances dull. A tingle of excitement rushed down Elissa's spine and she felt her earlier tension start to melt away. Dancing was very much like martial foot work, and that was something she understood in her soul.

Elissa relaxed into Maric's embrace and let the music sweep them away. The great hall whirled past her eyes in a dizzying display, but Maric's merry blue eyes held her locked in place. She found herself laughing in delight as they bounded into an impromptu competition with several other couples swinging around the dance floor. She could see the rush of a challenge snap in Maric's eyes as they darted around the other dancers. He glanced back at Elissa and she returned his look with a fierce grin.

The court musicians were veterans of many such battles and caught on immediately. They modulated the music tempo, going faster and slower to trip up the participants on the dance floor. Elissa let Maric lead her into a complex series of back and forth twists and dove along with him as they charged across the floor in a mock duel. They spun back together and Elissa realized the dance very much felt like the sword work she practiced for hours upon hours at home. It was as though they were two people controlling one sword gripped between their clasped hands. With that thinking in mind, Elissa settled into the swirling rhythm under Maric's appreciative gaze.

The other couples on the floor fell out a few at a time until she and Maric were alone and the center of attention of the entire ball. The musicians built the music into a grand crescendo and then ended with a final soaring flourish. As the last notes rang out, Maric dipped Elissa against his bent knee. They stayed like that for a brief moment, both gulping air, as thunderous applause erupted from the onlookers. Maric helped Elissa recover with gentle pressure from the hand he held against her back. He stepped back with her hand high held and leaned forward to brush his lips against the back of her knuckles. She curtsied deeply in return. He grinned and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm so he could lead her back to her bemused father, who stood with her mother at the edge of the floor.

"Thank you for the dance, Lady Cousland," Maric rumbled as he held her hand out to her father, who accepted it reverently.

"The honor was mine, Your Majesty," Elissa dipped into another small courtesy. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with bright excitement. She couldn't hold herself from gushing, "It was absolutely wonderful."

"Yes, I quite agree," Maric's eyes danced merrily and he inclined his head to first her, then to her father and mother before disappearing back into the crowd. Elissa watched him go, and if her expression seemed a little dreamy, no one could blame her. She caught both her parents looking at her in mute amusement.

"What?" she demanded, looking back at them.

"We didn't say anything," Eleanor smiled and covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her mirth as Bryce coughed to cover his laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

High summer began its cruel assault on Fereleden when word arrived from Redcliffe that Arl Eamon's wife, absent at the Wintersend festivities, had delivered a healthy baby boy. It was the Arl's first child and the occasion demanded a grand celebration. Elissa joined her mother and father in their private quarters while they were discussing the matter.

"Dotty can handle those arrangements, Bryce," Eleanor waved a dismissive hand at some comment from her husband, smiling brightly when her daughter knocked politely and entered the room.

"Father doesn't want to go to Redcliffe," Elissa said dryly, leaning down to kiss her mother's cheek. The older Cousland lady sat on her favorite divan underneath a window that overlooked the gardens.

"It's bloody hot this time of year," her father shook his head, "It's a momentous occasion, yes, but we can just send a representative with gifts. Eamon won't mind. He probably wishes they could celebrate up here where it's cooler."

"Oh hush, my love. Eamon loves Redcliffe no matter what time of year, and we absolutely must go personally. This is the king's nephew," Eleanor flickered her gaze to her daughter almost faster than Elissa could catch it.

"By marriage," Bryce pointed out, though it was clear he wasn't going to win this argument with his beloved.

"That makes absolutely no difference and you know it," Eleanor admonished him, "And more than that we can hardly expect anyone to show up for Fergus' wedding if we can't be bothered to attend the christening of an ally's firstborn."

Bryce sighed and looked to his daughter as if seeking support, but she shrugged and he heaved a second, heavier sigh.

"I'll make the arrangements for our travel," he ran a hand through his greying hair and then looked to his wife again, "But you have to deal with choosing suitable gifts."

"Of course, dear," Eleanor smiled sweetly and picked up the forgotten embroidery in her lap, "I'm so glad we had this discussion."

"Of course you are; you won," Bryce laughed and leaned over to kiss his wife on the forehead. He gave Elissa a quick kiss on her cheek and then left his sitting room to find the seneschal.

Elissa crossed her arms loosely and leaned against the arm of her mother's divan. Her mother was nearly finished with her most recent embroidery project, a knight in gleaming silverite armor and a flaming sword facing off against a great rearing dragon.

"Mother, that dragon is breathing flames. That sword would be useless against it," Elissa pointed out less than helpfully. Her mother's fingers stilled, a long silver thread suspended between her fingers as she worked details into the knight's armor.

"Oh dear, I don't know why I didn't think about that," Eleanor muttered, shaking her head.

"I'm sure it'll be just fine," Elissa hastened to reassure her mother, brushing the detail off.

"No, no, this is to be a gift to young Connor, I can't have a mistake like that glaring at me every time I visit," Eleanor dug into the embroidery basket sitting on the cushion at her hip and pulled out a tiny hooked blade.

Elissa cringed as her mother attacked the intricate flames worked into the knight's sword, thinking of the hours wasted.

"I'm sorry, mother," she said, shaking her head, "I really shouldn't have said anything."

Eleanor paused and raised surprised to her daughter, "Of course you should have, darling. You are fiercely intelligent, and I would be hurt if you tried to hide that. Attention to detail is important, and don't ever forget that. Now, pass me the light blue silk from my basket. Do you think icy flames will be enough, or should I put in a few snowflakes just to make it clear?"

* * *

"Mother, I love you," Elissa's words were heartfelt when she pulled her horse alongside the open sided carriage carrying her mother, Eleanor's ladies in waiting, and Fergus' betrothed Oriana.

Eleanor paused her conversation and eyed the younger girl for a moment, waiting for the rest of what Elissa clearly wanted to say.

"But this heat is an abomination in the eyes of the Maker," Elissa finished peevishly as she patted away the beads of sweat that pebbled her forehead with a cloth. She had another kerchief tied around her neck and her leather armor was already starting to show sweat stains.

"Such words, Elissa," Eleanor admonished her daughter, who merely glowered in return, "We're almost to Redcliffe. I'm sure Arlessa Isolde will have refreshments ready for us."

Elissa snorted indelicately and dug her heels into her gelding's flank, sending the horse trotting forward so she could ride beside her father and brother.

"You all right, pup?" Bryce Cousland looked positively miserable. His hair was plastered to his skull by sweat and his face was flushed under a sheen of moisture.

"I hate this heat," his daughter grumbled, wiping more sweat from her face.

"Oh, I don't know; it's not that bad," Fergus grinned widely at the suffering of his father and sister. He seemed far more tolerant of the punishing sun beating down on them. His thick dark hair was barely damp at the temples, and other than a slight flush that was probably sunburn, he seemed unfazed.

"It's his mother's blood, that must be it. Baking out on the waking sea all that time," Bryce shared an understanding glower with his daughter.

"Is Oriana comfortable? I saw you speaking with mother," Fergus twisted in his saddle so he could see his mother's carriage. He caught sight of his beloved and waved, earning a smile and wave in return.

"She seems unfazed by this Maker cursed heat," Elissa shrugged, "It's probably a cool day compared to Antiva."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Fergus laughed and sighed happily, shaking his head as he sat straight in his saddle again.

"Won't be much longer, my boy," Bryce smiled in understanding.

"I know, Father," Fergus shrugged and ducked his head. The details of her brother's engagement to Oriana had been worked out not long after the family returned from the Wintersend. Oriana had arrived for a summer visit just a week before their departure for Redcliffe. She would remain with the Couslands until the fall and then return to her family in Antiva before the autumn storms made travel hazardous. She would return again in the spring, along with her family, for the wedding.

Further conversation was prevented by the approach of mounted soldiers in livery of Redcliffe. The captain of Highever's guard rode forward to greet them under the Couslands' watchful gaze. After a few moments of gestures and salutes, the captain returned and bowed.

"My lord, an escort from Redcliffe," the captain shifted in his saddle, surreptitiously adjusting his weapon and shield, "Bandits have been a problem along the roads. The Arl does not wish us to be inconvenienced."

"Understood, Michael," Bryce nodded, all heat related discomfort gone. He sat straight in his saddle and jerked his chin to Elissa, "Go see to your mother. Get the servants to put the sides on the carriage."

"At once, Father," Elissa ducked her head and tugged the reins of her horse, who answered her command instantly, pivoting around so she could return to her mother's carriage.

"Everything all right, dear?" Eleanor was alert. Her gaze flickered between her daughter and the Redcliffe guards that spread out along the sides of the Highever host.

"A precaution," Elissa shrugged easily and smiled soothingly to the ladies of the carriage, "Redcliffe sends its finest to ensure our arrival is uneventful."

As she spoke Elissa shifted in her saddle to subtly bring the short sword at her waist into her mother's view. She'd loosened the strap that kept it secure, allowing her to draw it easily and quickly. She saw her mother's eyes flicker and nodded. She moved her horse away to address a servant and instructed him to replace the carriage's reinforced sides. It would make the interior much warmer, but it was a necessary precaution if arrows started to fly. She ordered another servant to take fruit infused water to the ladies and then wheeled her horse. She orbited the column, eyes watchful for anything out of the ordinary. An attack was unlikely in the open fields and cottages they traveled through, but she knew hills and heavy forest still waited ahead of them.

Elissa had just completed another circuit of the Highever host when the attack came. They were deep into the high hills and thick forest that covered the last stretch leading up to Redcliffe when the foliage to the right of the lead guards rustled violently. A loud whining groan followed and then one of the larger trees reared precariously out from the forest. It shuddered and hung for a moment before slowly crashing down across the road leading to Redcliffe.

The rest happened in a blur of action and reaction. Elissa drew her longsword from its sheath on her back and kicked her horse into action. Men wearing patchy armor burst from the bushes, rising up from piles of bracken and leaves. Elissa ran one man down as his feet hit the road and leaned over to take the head of another before he could raise his blade to block her blow. She wheeled her horse and charged back down the line of her father's troops as they set their shields and formed up around her mother's carriage.

As fights went, the battle was short and ugly. Bryce Cousland kept his guards in top form, and the soldiers from Redcliffe were at least equally trained. The attacking bandits were no match for the combined forces, and as Elissa felt a pang of pity for the attackers when she kicked one gap toothed lad in the face when he tried to grab her stirrup. They were all thin and their gear was terribly shabby. She couldn't help but wonder what could possibly have motivated them to attack a heavily guarded caravan.

The bandits numbered about two dozen but each of Teyrn Bryce's men was worth at least five of the bandits. Highever had a score of soldiers, five of the Cousland's best knights, and ten more from Redcliffe's guard with the knight that led them. The fight was over almost before it started, and Elissa spun her horse in a tight circle to take in the battlefield when no more bandits were within reach of her blade. A quick survey showed the bandits all dead or dying, and it seemed none of her father's soldiers or those from Redcliffe were down. A flaw in the side of her mother's carriage caught Elissa's eye, and she pressed her lips together into a tight frown. Arrows peppered the reinforced sides of the carriage. Elissa kicked her horse to race alongside. She dropped from her saddle and had just enough sense to call out to her mother before ripping the door open.

"I'm glad you said something, my dear," Eleanor Cousland said coolly as she lowered the dagger in her hand.

"Are you all right?" Elissa darted her eyes around the dim interior and saw only wide eyed shock from the other occupants. None seemed injured.

"We're fine, dear. The others?" Eleanor said easily, keeping her tone cool and even in the face of the crisis.

"It's handled, I don't believe we lost anyone," Elissa gave a short jerk of her head, "I need to check on Father."

"Of course, give him my love please," Eleanor nodded and firmly pulled the carriage door closed.

"Your mother is well?" Bryce was at the head of the column speaking with his knights and the knight from Redcliffe. He already had several guards and servants working to clear the fallen tree from their path.

"They're all well," Elissa said emphatically, noting the tight panic in Fergus' eyes when he jogged up. He nodded gratefully and went to assist the servants trying to clear the tree.

"We've had other incidents, my lord. Arl Eamon has been working to get the banditry under control, but these ruffians have been slippery," the Redcliffe knight ducked his head in regretful apology.

"Ferelden is by no means a peaceful paradise, Ser Knight," Bryce shook his silver streaked head, "And this is why we take precautions. No harm was done, thank the Maker. It was a reminder that we must always be vigilant."

"It was a slaughter," Elissa said grimly, eyeing the bodies the guards were dragging off the road. They would be lined up and burned before the Highever host continued on their way.

"That I will give you," Bryce inclined his head to his daughter while the knight nodded, "I have to wonder what could possibly have motivated them to attack such a well-armed target."

"I'll send our scouts to backtrack their trail as soon as we get you to Redcliffe safely, my Lord," the knight assured the teyrn with a sharp salute.

"I appreciate it, good man. I'll pass on my compliments to Eamon about the exceptional skill and training of his men," Bryce gave the man a tired smile, which the knight returned with warm pride.


	5. Chapter 5

"Isolde, my dear he's beautiful!" Eleanor gushed warmly under the proud gaze of Eamon's Orlesian bride. She stood beside her infant son's silk swathed bassinet. The child gurgled softly and stared up at the faces that crowded his view. He shoved one tiny fist into his toothless mouth and gummed it savagely as he craned to try to see everything.

"Thank you Lady Eleanor, we are very proud of our Connor," Isolde beamed brightly up at her husband. Her accent was thick and strange to Elissa's ears. Though her father did a great deal of work with the Orlesians in his efforts to reestablish trade, she herself had very little contact with Ferelden's former occupying force.

"Looks like the young lord is a bit hungry," Bryce laughed softly and drew back when Connor's efforts on his tiny fist did not yield the satisfaction and his face screwed up into an indignant scowl.

"We'll take our leave," Elissa's mother smiled warmly one last time at the infant and then inclined her head to Isolde, who returned the gesture with a deep curtsy before she leaned over to pick up her tiny son. The Couslands and Oriana wished them well and then the family quietly excited so the Arl and his wife could enjoy their son.

"He's absolutely darling," Eleanor sighed happily as she hooked her arm around her husband's elbow.

"Takes me right back to when these two were that age," Bryce's smile was warm and full of pride as he looked over his shoulder his two children.

"I hope you both understand I want a great number of grandchildren," Eleanor smiled fondly and raised her eyebrow at them.

Oriana blushed brightly and ducked her head prettily when Fergus wrapped a large arm around her waist.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll get right to work on that, Mother," Elissa's brother laughed. His eyes were full of love and longing when he looked at his bride-to-be.

Elissa snorted and shook her head, "Good. Please have enough that she'll stop harassing me about it."

"Oh come now, pup! One of these days you're going to find someone that will sweep you off your feet, and then you'll understand what it's like to look into the face of a life you've brought into the world," Bryce's eyes were bright and warm as his gaze shifted between his wife and children.

Elissa shrugged uncomfortably and gamely gave her father an artificially bright smile. The family continued down the halls of Redcliffe castle until they reached the guest rooms. They parted there, and Elissa took her leave. She wandered the public sections of the castle for a time before curiosity drew her down to the village that spilled along the shores of Lake Calenhad below Redcliffe Castle. Venders from all over Ferelden had gathered together to commemorate Connor's birth, flooding the small village to bursting. Arl Eamon had not been tight with his coin as he proudly celebrated the birth of his child and the air was full of music and laughter as Redcliffe celebrated with their ruler. Elissa wandered from stall to stall as traders plied her with their wares. She bought a few small gifts for her family and had just purchased a meat and cheese hand pie wrapped in fried bread when cheers rippled from the crowds near the road to the castle. She followed the commotion and climbed up onto a low stone wall to see over the crowd when the press of bodies grew too tight.

She stood there slowly chewing bites of her hand pie, leaning on a weather worn mabari statue standing tall atop the low wall when riders thundered through the village gates. They wheeled dramatically around the sharp curve the road took through the gate and then pounded down the dusty sun baked road toward the bridge that would take them to the castle. Elissa stopped chewing as she watched the riders. They wore gleaming plate armor and had lances planted firmly in their stirrups. Across their chests the two rearing lions of the Theirin family crest clawing at each other. Pennons snapped from the tops of the knights' lances as they thundered past, and Elissa had to admit the sight was grand.

The crowd's cheers rose to a deafening roar when the knights passed, because directly on their heels rode the King, his golden haired son Cailan, and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tire. Elissa barely noticed the half grown boy or the teyrn, dismissing them from her mind because there simply wasn't room for anything else when her eyes fell on Maric.

The King wore gold inlaid silverite that shimmered like glass under the summer sun. His mane of silver streaked gold hair was pulled back in a tail at the back of his head, although a lock had escaped their confines and fell rakishly across his forehead. Today he rode atop a massive grey charger that set his already tall bulk head and shoulders above the rest of his entourage. Elissa felt her breath catch and she stood frozen in mid chew while she stared. Though Maric waved and smiled to his cheering subjects, his scanning eyes had flickered briefly when they'd crossed Elissa. She felt pinned in place, her own eyes going wide before she hastily ducked her head. By the time she raised her head the King's horse had thundered past, and she found her eyes drawn to his departing back. He had his famous rune blade strapped across his back, the one he'd wielded when he took Fereleden back from Orlais.

Elissa turned her attention to the rest of the King's party just in time to see a beautiful open topped carriage pulled by two delicate white mares round the corner. Lady Anora and her ladies sat demurely in the carriage. Anora's golden hair was braided into an elebaorate coif on top of her head, and Elissa briefly caught a glimpse of a pale blue gown as the carriage raced past. Anora didn't notice her, or didn't care, and for that Elissa was grateful.

Normally confident and uncaring about the niceties of fashionable attire, Elissa felt like an invisible hand struck her in the gut. What a sight she must have been when the King rode past. There she stood, her hair pulled into a simple tail and her plain leather armor covered in dust kicked up by dozens of feet on the road. She still clutched her half eaten meat pie in one hand, but she no longer had an appetite for it. She jumped down from the wall and started to push her way through the crowd dispersing after the excitement of the King's arrival. She reached the edges of the crowd just as a woman dressed as a minor noble viciously dismissed a small wide eyed girl in ragged breeches and an equally ragged canvas tunic. The girl cringed and retracted her cupped hands away from the woman, dodging out of the way of an attendant that went to his mistress' rescue to scare the beggar child away.

Elissa pursed her lips and stepped deliberately between the retainer and the child, earning herself a bit off curse when she flashed the Cousland family crest she wore on her left hand. He darted back in apology and returned to his mistress, who had wandered off. Elissa turned back to the child, who stood not far away and stared at her with wide liquid brown eyes. Elissa sighed and crouched down in front of the child.

"You need to be careful out here, sweetling," Elissa said softly, straightening the girl's too large tunic with one hand. With the other she pressed her unfinished pie into the child's hands. She dug into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a few coppers, enough to buy the child a meal or two.

"Thank you, Lady," the girl breathed, clutching her prizes tightly to her chest. Her eyes darted around furtively, as though she expected someone to jump out and take her riches. It was probably a reasonable fear.

Elissa smiled and squeezed the girl's shoulder before the child scampered off into the crowd. She stood and continued her journey to the bridge in the King's wake. One of the guards standing watch regarded her solemnly when she approached. His eyes flickered back the way the child disappeared.

"Something the matter, good sir?" Elissa asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing at all, my Lady," the guard shook his head and waved her across the bridge toward the sanctuary of Redcliffe castle.

* * *

"Good day to you, my Lords," Redcliffe's kennel master bowed deeply to the two men when Arl Eamon and Teyrn Bryce entered the kennels. He added a hasty greeting to Elissa when she eased through the door behind her father and his friend.

"Just here to show Bryce and his daughter our newest additions, Reynold," Arl Eamon grinned broadly at his kennel master, who beamed back in return.

"Of course, my lords, my lady," the man wore serviceable well-kept clothes appropriate to working with ferelden's finest hounds. He led them through the kennels, lines of clean stone pens partially filled with eagerly barking dogs that jumped and danced when they passed. The kennel master's assistants dashed here and there, frequently leading sleek dogs in and out of the training pens.

"We recently acquired two bitches from Teyrn Loghain's kennel," the kennel master waved to two pens, each of which held massive female mabari. One was a silver blue color with bright intelligent eyes, and the other was a sable brown with a blaze of white that sliced down her muzzle between her eyes. The sable brown was also heavily pregnant, almost ready to give birth if her engorged teats were anything to go by.

"They're magnificent," Bryce nodded appreciatively and the tour continued on, the men discussing possible breeding exchanges. At a nod from Arl Eamon, Elissa slipped away to see the training pens. The particulars of dog breeding were less interesting than working with the actual beasts. She looked around for one of the kennel servants and spotted a young boy leading a tan mabari that probably outweighed him twice over. The dog was calm at his side though, and he had no trouble handing its leash over to one of the senior assistants waiting for the hound in a training ring.

"You there, boy," Elissa called out to the child and smiled when he looked at her apprehensively, but hurried over nonetheless. The lad was filthy, covered in layers of dust and with mud caked across the knees of his short pants. His hair was in desperate need of a washing and a trim, but his hazel eyes were clear and there was some intelligence behind them.

"Aye, my lady?" the lad eyed her fine leather armor, clean hair and the sigil on her hand in one quick glance. He was well trained, if anything.

"I'm a guest of the Arl, and he's allowed me time to work with some of the hounds. Is a big red male named Ferrous still in the kennels?"

"Aye, lady," the boy nodded, "He hasn't been out yet today."

"Would you be a good lad and bring him to me, please?" she smiled and nodded to an empty training pen. The boy nodded and darted off, returning quickly with a huge old rust colored mabari. There was grey fur starting to creep up his muzzle, but his step was light despite his age.

"There you are, sweet boy," Elissa leaned down to scratch the beast behind his cropped ears. He rumbled happily and leaned into her ministrations. She thanked the kennel boy and led Ferrous into the pen. She worked with the hound for almost an hour when her father and Arl Eamon finally reached the training yard. They both leaned on the rails of the pen while Elissa ran from one end of the ring to the other. She dipped and rolled, fighting imaginary foes while Ferrous danced between her legs or darted out to savage a training dummy at her gestured command.

"That girl needs a hound," Eamon said sagely while they watched, earning a nod from his friend.

"Aye, we're just waiting on the right animal to come along. All of our hounds love her, but none have imprinted. It won't be long," Bryce grinned broadly when his daughter crowed her delight, hugging the big red mabari for flawlessly completing her program.

"I'm sorry to bother you, my lord," a quiet voiced piped up behind them and both men turned to see the same grubby boy who'd helped Elissa.

"It's quite all right, Alistair," Eamon's eyes softened sadly and he nodded to the boy, "What can I do for you?"

"Master Reynold sent me to find you. You're wanted back at the castle," the boy ducked his head and tried to make himself small.

Eamon nodded and exchanged a quick look with Bryce. Elissa joined them at that moment. Ferrous stood sedately at her side until she handed his lead back to the boy with thanks.

"I'll return to the castle directly. Thank you, Alistair," Eamon said kindly. He paused, eyeing the boy for a moment before addressing him again, "When was the last time you had a bath, boy?"

"Uh," the boy's eyes darted around as he thought, but he frowned helplessly up at the Arl.

"That's what I thought," Eamon sighed heavily, "Go down to the lake and bathe, Alistair. I'll let the kennel master know I've given you the rest of the day off."

The boy's eyes grew round and bright, "Really? Thank you, my lord!"

He scampered off then, the dog loping along at his heels, and Elissa found her eyes following him until he disappeared.

"Was that…?" her father glanced briefly at Eamon, who answered him with a short jerk of his chin.

"I see," the teyrn frowned, then glanced at his daughter, who stood silently waiting for her elders.

"I suppose we should see what awaits me at the Castle," Eamon shook his head distastefully, and Elissa got the feeling he knew exactly what awaited him.


	6. Chapter 6

"He's been through enough, Eamon. Now you want to send him away from the only home he's known?" Maric's voice froze Elissa in her tracks. She was, bluntly put, prowling the shadows of Redcliffe castle's halls. Most of the castle's occupants were beginning to gather in the great hall for the first of many banquets planned to mark Lord Connor's birth. Elissa was restless and had no desire to crowd into the stifling hall, and so she lurked in the shadows of the halls practicing skills her Antivan fencing master had taught her.

"Isolde won't have it any longer, Maric. Not with Connor's birth," Eamon's voice was tired, and there was a heavy sadness in it Elissa found surprising.

"Then tell her the truth, if your Orlesian bride is so fearful of her child's birthright," there was a bitter edge to Maric's tone.

"No, absolutely not," Eamon snapped, "I'll not add to her burden. Maric, the lad is strong and sensible. He'll thrive under the Chantry's guidance."

"And what of what he wants? He's safe here, this is his home," Maric growled.

"My king, I know you only want what's best for the boy, but he is not happy here," Eamon pleaded.  
There was silence for a time, and Elissa considered withdrawing before she heard more. It was clearly a private conversation, and it was beyond improper for her to lurk outside Eamon's study eavesdropping.

"Do what you think is best, Eamon," Maric's voice was toneless when he finally answered the Arl. There was a shuffle of feet and Elissa barely had time to cram herself behind the edge of a tapestry in the shadows before the door was jerked open and slammed shut. She felt her eyes widen at the sight of Maric's dark scowl when she peaked around the edge of the dusty wall hanging. His brow was drawn low over his eyes and his mouth was turned down into an angry snarl. He strode down the hall with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. She stayed in her hiding place until Eamon left his office a few moments after the king. His face was drawn and tired under his thick beard. He sighed heavily, squared his shoulders, and then his noble mask fell into place. He strode purposefully down the hall, once again a powerful lord ready to face the world.

Elissa waited until she was sure the hall was empty and then slipped out of her hiding place. There were no guards in this part of the castle but there was no point in being careless. She slipped through the shadows until she found the guest wing again. Once there, she stepped boldy into the hall and nodded to a servant before she went into her room. She called for her maid to help her dress for the banquet, and mulled over the odd conversation she'd overheard while the elf twisted Elissa's hair into elaborate loops.

The banquet was as stuffy and unending as she'd feared it would be. Lords and ladies alike stood to offer greetings to the King and congratulations to Eamon and Isolde. The King sat at the head of the table as the guest of honor, and Elissa couldn't help but steal glances his way from where she sat far down the table with her brother. Her mother and father sat with Teyrn Loghain, Cailan, and Anora on Maric's left while Eamon and Isolde sat to his right.

Elissa exchanged pleasantries with the other noble's children that surrounded her. Several were clearly strategically placed by their parents, and to Elissa's eternal suffering she was placed with Bann Estan's son, the very same young knight Fergus had soundly defeated at the spring melee. The boy was nice enough, but his conversation was dull. He clearly enjoyed discussing military tactics and his training with the other young men around the table but he adamantly refused to "subject" Elissa to such unladylike topics. Elissa wanted to strangle him when he started talking about crop rotations and proper management of a bannorn.

She nearly cried with relief when the banquet was cleared by an army of servants. They smoothly shifted the tables out of the way for dancing. The musicians entered to polite cheering and settled into a series of popular line dances. Elissa avoided the first few, choosing instead to stand with her mother and critique the attire of the ladies in attendance. It did not last, and Elissa found herself drawn into a line of other ladies standing across from a matching row of gentlemen. There was a great deal of laughing at one end of the men, and when she peered around the absurdly large headdress of the lady in line next to her, Elissa saw Bann Teagan and Prince Cailan drawing King Maric into the line. The king laughed and protested weakly, showing absolutely no sign of the thunderous scowl she'd seen on his face when she'd lurked outside Eamon's office.

The music picked up as the dancers settled into their places, and with curtsies from the ladies mirrored by deep bows from the men, the dance began. No two dancers kept the same partner for more than a moment, and Elissa found herself smiling brightly as she twirled with her brother, Bann Teagan, and even her father at one point. She tried to ignore a stab of disappointment when she realized her position in the line prevented her from pairing up with the King. She nearly stumbled when her brain caught up with the thought, and she felt a frustrated flutter in her gut. She hadn't even given it much thought when she'd counted the dancers in each line even as she laughed and swirled along the line. And yet the only thing she could think of as she traveled down the row of partners was that she wouldn't have a chance to briefly put her palm in Maric's for a quick twirl. It was absurd. Elissa chastised herself. She was not a fainting maid trying to flutter her eyes at a rosy cheeked knight. This was the King, a man who had shown no more than polite attention to any woman since the death of his wife Queen Rowan almost two decades before. Elissa greatly admired the warrior queen, and had admitted to her mother that someday she wanted to be just like the woman.

And yet now Elissa found herself blushing brightly when she realized she wanted nothing more than for the girl to her right to stumble out of the line so Elissa could take her place. That's all it would take, by her estimation, for her to be able to end the dance with her hand in Maric's. Elissa hated herself, and slowly began to understand why being part of the nobility could be such a backstabbing profession. She crushed those thoughts down and smiled brightly to the older gentlemen that clasped her hand next, vowing to be happy with whatever life and fate gave her.

Fate, it seemed, smiled on her far more than she could have ever dreamed. In the next heartbeat a great whooping of laugher erupted from Maric's end of the line as the two lines zippered together. A quick curious glance showed Elissa that Cailan had tripped over his own feet and his father held the young man up by his shoulders. He was laughing and slapped his son on the shoulder before shoving him gently back into the line. Cailan blushed bright red but laughed too, and Elissa smiled with them. It was a moment later as the partners entered the final exchange that Elissa realized Maric and Cailan had traded places. She couldn't help the wide smile and brilliant blush that colored her cheeks when Maric grasped her hand for one final spin.

The men backed up a pace, bowed, and the ladies curtsied. That should have been the end of it, but clearly the King had other plans. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he lifted his head and smoothly stepped forward to grasp her hand again. The music slowed into a more sedate waltz, and Elissa could only smile when Maric raised a questioning eyebrow. He slid his free hand to her waist and Elissa felt a happy tingle at his touch. She had to force herself to both keep breathing and a stupid grin from splitting her face.

Maric swirled her gently across the floor while they caught their breath from the lively line dance. Elissa enjoyed the chance to unabashedly stare at his face. His neatly trimmed golden beard was sprinkled wotj silver, and she could see the two gleaming silver wings that stretched from his temples. As it had been earlier in the day, his hair was tied back in a tale at the base of his neck. His blue eyes were bright, and though they occasionally darted around the dance floor to scout the path he led them on, he met Elissa's gaze with silent humor.

They did not speak during this dance, although he did murmur appreciative thanks against her fingers when he kissed them. He left her to receive another partner from the floor, and Elissa breathlessly retreated to the far end of the hall. She could see some of the ladies eyeing her as she passed. Some were speculative and some were openly hostile.

 _Two dances, twice in a row,_ Elissa gulped in air and accepted a glass of chilled wine from a passing servant. She willed her hands to keep from shaking when she lifted the glass to her lips and forced herself to take a small restrained sip instead of knocking the entire goblet back.

"You seem to have our King's attention, Lady Coulsand," a warm voice spoke up from behind Elissa, and she turned to see Anora smiling as warmly as her voice. Too bad the warmth ended there, because her eyes were cold daggers.

"Polite opportunity," Elissa shook her head and waved a hand in bland disinterest. At least that's what she was going for. Anora's eyes narrowed just a hair and Elissa felt a tingle of nervous. She quashed the feeling indignantly. She was of equal rank with the woman, even if Anora was betrothed to Cailan.

"Hmm, enjoy your evening, Elissa," Anora inclined her head and vanished into the crowd. Elissa blinked several times, trying to figure out what she'd missed in the conversation. She turned abruptly, wanting nothing more than to be out of the great hall.

"My lady!" She stumbled right into the kennel master, Reynold. Cursing herself, she disentangled herself from his supportive grip. He probably thought she would have fallen. She cursed her clumsiness and apologized profusely when she realized she'd slopped her drink all over his fine doublet. As kennel master of Redcliffe he was a respected member of Eamon's household, and it wasn't surprising he was at the banquet.

"Oh it's all right, my lady," the man's eyes danced merrily as he dismissed her apologies, "It's not the worst to happen to my clothes."

"Still, I should have been more careful," she shook her head, "If it's ruined I'll replace it."

"Oh none of that, my lady," he waved his hand, "It's white wine. It'll wash right out."

"You'll let me know if it doesn't," she made him promise, and at his nod she relaxed, "I wasn't able to tell you earlier, your kennels are exceptional. Your hounds are in the peak of condition."

"Thank you, my lady!" Reynold's eyes brightened with her compliments, "Your Lord father told me about your involvement in Highever's breeding program. It warms an old man's heart to see Ferelden's young nobles keeping to the old ways."

"I mostly work with the training," she ducked her head and grinned, "And the puppies."

The kennel master laughed, "Aye, my lady, the pups make it worthwhile. My own granddaughters are thick as thieves when the bitches whelp."

"Speaking of children, did Eamon pass on word that he gave your kennel boy the afternoon off?" Elissa asked idly, recalling the Arl's strange softness for the servant boy.

The kennel master stilled and his smile faded, "He did not, my lady. The lad was gone when I returned, as was the Arl. I'm afraid I already punished him for shirking his duties."

Elissa's smile also faded and her eyes widened, "The poor lad."

"Aye, now I feel like a beast," the man shook his balding head and he cringed, "I think the boy even tried to tell me, but I wouldn't have any of it. I won't have anyone short their duties in my kennel."

"I'm sure Arl Eamon will clear things up," Elissa smiled reassuringly, although her heart ached for the boy. The delight in his eyes at a free afternoon had been palpable.

"That won't help the boy's flogged backside, unfortunately," the kennel master sighed, "I'll apologize to him in the morning. I've already sent him to bed in the stables.

"I see," Elissa took a sip of her drink as the kennel master made his excuses and stepped away in the direction she'd last seen Arl Eamon. She stood there for several minutes, but her exultant mood from dancing with Maric was entirely spoilt by Anora's hostility and the kennel master's punishment of the boy.

With a heavy sigh Elissa retreated through the doors of the grand hall. No doubt her parents would be looking for her in short order, but she was in no mood to waste her energy on a minor banquet. She hurried to the kitchens where they were cleaning up from the banquet and preparing to send out desserts and finger foods to keep the evening fueled. She politely begged a small pouch of simple foods and a skin of milk. The cooks eyed her knowingly, probably assuming she was preparing for a quiet tryst with some young noble lad.

 _It's certainly with a lad,_ she thought with amusement, _but not quite what they think._ Her treasures held firmly in arm, she hurried through the castle halls until she reached a guarded side door that would lead to the stables. She exchanged a quiet word with the guards, who looked at her with the same knowing amusement as the cooks. She shrugged their eyes off when she darted through the door and hurried across the quiet courtyard to the stables. Most of the guests at the banquet were already staying at Redcliffe, so there was no need for stable hands to stand waiting with mounts for anyone wishing to leave the event early.

The stable wasn't entirely dark when she slipped between the stalls, but what light there was came from shielded lanterns fastened to hooks in the cross beams above the open central aisle. Some of the horses sniffed at her curiously, and her own bay gelding snuffed eagerly when she approached. She pulled an apple from the bag in her arms and held it out to him. He munched it happily and the noise drew the attention of someone in the dark.

"Is someone there? I'll yell for the guards if you're a thief," a cautious voice called down from the rafters. The voice was light and piping, although it sounded like the person spoke with a stuffed up nose.

"Will you not yell if I assure you I'm not a thief?" Elissa stepped away from her gelding and smiled up at the kennel boy where his head hung over the edge of the hay loft. His expression grew confused seeing the noble woman in a silken dress standing below him. Recognition registered on his face and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I won't trouble you," he paused and pointed to a secluded corner, "Most gentlemen like to go over to that corner, if that's what you're looking for."

"Ah, no," Elissa hasted to assure him, "I actually came looking for you."

"For me?" he repeated and his head tilted in a manner so much like a puppy Elissa felt her smile grow wider.

"For you," she confirmed and then glanced around. She spotted a ladder to the loft tucked behind the last stall and looped the pouch of food and milk around her arm. She gathered her voluminous silk skirts into a bundle and looped that over her arm, too. It was a challenge, but she scaled the ladder without much trouble, and settled her skirts back down over her cream leggings properly when she reached the loft. The boy was still sitting at the edge of the loft, though he eyed her with clear suspicion.

"I spoke with the kennel master a little while ago," she explained simply as she looked around at her surroundings. She potted a ragged blanket wadded up next to a small nest of straw amongst the stacked bales. There was very little light, but she could see a few personal effects stacked up on a bale of straw like it was a table. A tiny ragged cloak hung on a nail hanging from the wall.

"He told me he'd punished you for disappearing for the afternoon," she glanced at the boy as she walked over to his little alcove. He followed her cautiously and wiped angrily at his eyes when fresh tears shimmered in their hazel depths.

"I shouldn't have left," the boy said sullenly. He watched her settle gingerly onto the ground by his bed, "You're going to ruin your pretty dress."

"It won't be the first gown I've ruined grubbing around when I should be playing a nice noble girl for some party," Elissa shrugged and patted the straw next to her, "But really I came to apologize to you."

"To me, my lady?" his brow wrinkled but he sat down next to her nonetheless, cringing a bit when his backside settled. He'd cleaned up well, and she could see that his hair was a light brown. It still desperately needed a trim, but at least it wasn't filthy. His face was sweet, with a long straight nose and a bow shaped mouth that turned down in an adorable frown.

"I was there with Eamon when he gave you the afternoon off, but I didn't say anything to remind him to pass that word to the kennel master," she answered, pulling the strings of her pack open. She extracted the skin of milk and passed it to him, which he accepted mechanically, still frowning. His eyes brightened when she pulled out the rest of her prizes out.

"Is that…for me?" the boy's eyes were wide as they darted between the bread, fruit, sausage, and cheese she pulled out.

"It is," she grinned, "All for you. Well, I might nibble a bit of that sausage. It looks delicious."

She spread the knapsack out on the straw at his feet and deposited the feast on top. He babbled out repeated thanks and picked up the wedge of aged white cheese first. He bit into the edge of it and his eyes closed in exuberant bliss as he chewed. Elissa smiled at the delight in his face, deciding the whole endeavor was worth it just for that alone. The boy made short work of his bounty, although he did politely offer a small piece of sausage to Elissa before it vanished along with the rest. He gulped at the milk periodically to wash it all down and settled back with a happy sigh, poking at the crumbs so he could lick them off his fingers.

Elissa felt her smile wobble a bit as she watched, wondering when the last time the boy had such a meal. He was not underfed, but he certainly didn't have any extra meat on his body. His hands were still a bit dirty where grime was ground into his skin, but his fingers were wide and strong, even for a child. His limbs were long for his size and she guessed he was just on the brink of adolescence.

"Where is your family, sweetling?" she asked quietly, suspecting she already knew the answer.

The boy froze and darted his eyes about, as if waiting for someone to jump out and attack them.

"I've no family, my lady," he ducked his head and avoided her gaze, "My mother died when I was born."

Elissa wasn't surprised, and simply nodded. She reached down to her hip and extracted one final gift for the boy. She carefully unwrapped layers of cheesecloth to reveal a large slice of apple cobbler. It was a bit crushed from travel, but the boy clearly did not care when he descended upon it as though he hadn't just eaten his weight in food. Thinking back to her brother at that age, Elissa suspected she probably should have brought twice as much.

"Why are you doing this?" the boy asked finally. He shifted uncomfortably and crossed his legs under his body.

"Arl Eamon promised to tell your master he gave you free time, but he didn't. You were wrongly punished for his mistake," she said simply, reaching out a hand to sweep aside a lock of his thick tawny hair. It was messy and kept falling across his eyes. He stilled under her touch, as though he was unused to another's touch.

"The Arl is very busy," the boy defended his lord, "He's very nice to me."

"I know, but that's no reason for a little boy to pay for his mistake," she smiled, "A lord has a responsibility to care for his people. Even the smallest ones."

"What's your name, lady?" the boy asked, changing the subject abruptly, "I should have asked before. I'm not good with manners."

"My name is Elissa, and if I recall right, your name is Alistair," she smiled brightly and he blushed brightly.

"I..yeah, you remembered?" he made it a question, tilting his head to hide the pleased blush.

"I did. It's a very good name," she nodded and extended her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Alistair."

The boy fumbled to wipe his hands on his grubby pants before slipping his hand into hers, but he stilled uncertainly before he shook it as the servants did when they greeted each other. He clumsily twisted her hand in his and leaned over awkwardly to kiss her knuckles. Elissa raised her eyebrows in surprise and quickly hid the expression as he recovered. Someone, at some point, had tried to teach the boy how to greet a lady. She had intended to shake his hand as his peers would, but his gesture was so adorably sweet she couldn't resist blushing and demurring for his benefit. He grinned brightly at his own ingeniousness.

The boy relaxed quickly, and soon he was babbling happily as he showed her his treasures. He had several toy figures in a worn leather pouch. There was a knight, a tiny mabari, several footmen, and a fierce looking golem. He told her in detail when Arl Eamon had given him each toy, and then proudly showed her a fine dagger the Arl had given him for his tenth birthday. He whispered to her that he tried to keep it hidden most of the time because he was afraid the other servants would steal it. He tucked the small weapon back under his straw bed and patted it. Elissa kept a serene smile on her face as he spoke, but her heart was hammering in her chest. Eamon had spoken fondly to the boy, and repeatedly given the boy gifts over the years. The child was clearly cared for, despite his circumstances. A growing fear gripped her.

Was Alistair Eamon's bastard?


	7. Chapter 7

"You disappeared on us last night, pup," Teyrn Bryce stood up from the small breakfast table in the sitting room of the guest suite the family shared when Elissa entered the room.

"I'm sorry, Father," she shook her head, "I'd love to tell you I went off on some tryst with an unsuitable noble you'll be obligated to duel for my honor."

"But….?" Bryce exchanged an amused glance with his wife, who hid a smile.

"I went and found that kennel boy we saw yesterday," Elissa frowned mightily.

"Ah…yes, I believe I recall the lad," Bryce waved a vague hand and shook his head when his wife cast a questioning look his way as Elissa turned to pace the small room.

"Arl Eamon didn't relay to the kennel master that he'd excused the boy," Elissa tucked her hands behind her back and turned around to pace back toward her parents.

"The kennel master flogged the boy for shirking his duties," Elissa continued with a dark frown, "He mentioned that to me when I – literally – ran into him at the banquet. I felt badly for the child and took him a few treats. He sleeps in the stables."

She paused and raised an eyebrow at her father, who wore a blank expression. Her mother looked curious and a little confused, but not much else.

"That was very kind of you, pup. I'm sure the boy appreciated that," Bryce smiled and waved her to sit and join them for breakfast.

"Who's the boy's father?" Elissa demanded bluntly, "You recognized him, or at least who he might be, when we were in the kennels. Enough to comment on it to the Arl."

Bryce sighed and put down the biscuit he was buttering, "Elissa, leave it alone. It's no concern of yours."

Elissa opened her mouth to protest but her father cut her off.

"I said _leave it,"_ Bryce snapped with uncharacteristic heat, "I will not hear another word on the subject. Eat your breakfast. We have to be outside for the Arl's hunt in less than an hour."

"Are you all right, dear?" Eleanor stood in the doorway of Elissa's bedroom while her daughter tightened her armor in short jerky movements.

"That was entirely uncalled for," Elissa answered, jerking her chin toward the sitting room. Her father had left without a word after Elissa sullenly began to eat her breakfast.

"In all fairness you were a bit blunt, sweetling," her mother pointed out.

"Do _you_ know who the boy is?" Elissa gave her armor one last tug and then faced her mother, who wore an inscrutable expression.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Eleanor sighed heavily.

"Not so long as people keep acting like you and father about it," Elissa shrugged but continued, "When we were in the kennels Eamon spoke to the boy in a familiar manner. Father asked a vague question about the boy and the arl nodded. Then when I spent time with the boy he showed me his treasures. All gifts – from Arl Eamon."

"He's a kind lord to his people," Eleanor pointed out with a delicate shrug, "Your father regularly gives presents to the children of our holding."

"One gift," Elissa pointed out with a shake of her head, "On their tenth birthday. A common practice. This boy has gifts from Eamon dating as far back as the lad can recall."

"Elissa, my sweet, why are you so fixated on this?" Eleanor moved forward to grip her daughter by her leather padded arms, "What is it about this boy?"

"It's...like a puzzle, and the only logical answer is painfully scandalous," Elissa picked up a leather strip from her side table and began to braid her hair into a plait that started at the crown of her head and trailed down her back.

Eleanor sighed heavily and put her hands back on her daughter's arms, stilling them.

"Elissa, please leave this alone," her mother pleaded, trying to as much emphasis as she could into the words.

"And that is the part I don't understand," Elissa continued, pulling away from her mother so she could tie the loose end of her hair. She frowned fiercely, "If the boy is Eamon's bastard, it would be scandalous, but it also wouldn't be unheard of. There are plenty of nobles with illegitimate children running around."

The girl stepped away from her mother and picked up her swords, belting them into place while she thought, finally admitting, "I overheard a conversation I shouldn't have. Arl Eamon was telling the King he planned to send a boy away, because his presence was making Isolde uncomfortable. Maric told him to tell her the truth. Eamon refused.

"What is it about this boy that is so very terrifying that Eamon can't even admit to his wife whether or not the child is his?" Elissa propped her hands on her hips and stared at the floor while her mother stood in mute silence, waiting for her daughter to work her way to the logical conclusion. There was no point in trying to stop the girl, and Eleanor ruefully admitted to herself she had encouraged her daughter to embrace her fierce intelligence.

Elissa stilled, not even seeming to breathe, and Eleanor closed her own eyes. She opened them after a moment, and Elissa was staring at her.

"Mother…" Elissa shook her head, as if trying to deny the very idea even as it battered the inside of her skull.

"Elissa, my sweet girl," Eleanor again reached for her daughter, "For the boy's sake, please keep this to yourself. Whisper not a word of it to anyone. Not your brother, your father, no one."

"I…" Elissa's eyes grew wild and she gulped before nodding, "Yes, mother."

* * *

Elissa once again found herself outside Arl Eamon's study several days later, although this time it was with a proper reason. The Arl had lent several books to Elissa when she'd expressed an interest in Redcliffe's history. With Connor's christening over and the time for the guests to depart upon them, she stood outside his study door with her arms full of books.

" _Why do I have to leave? I don't want to go to a monastery!"_ Alistair's piping voice was clear through Eamon's solid door, even though it was choked with angry sobs.

She heard Eamon reply, but his words were muffled by the thick door.

" _I don't care! I hate you!"_ there was a pause, and then the door was ripped open and Elissa stood face to face with a furious Alistair. He was startled, but ducked around her and dashed down the hall. She caught a glimpse of tear streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes.

"I…uh…" Elissa turned back to face Arl Eamon, her eyes wide with shock.

"Lady Elissa, I'm so sorry you had to see that," Eamon stepped forward and opened the door further for her to enter, "Was there something I can help you with?"

"Ah," Elissa shook her head, "Your books, my Lord. I wanted to return them and thank you for lending them to me. They were extremely insightful."

"Ah yes, of course," the Arl smiled and relieved her of the book burden. As he did so a glimmer caught her eye and Elissa glanced at the stone wall behind Eamon's desk. Silvery shards lay smashed next to a silver chain at the base of the wall.

"Was that all, Lady Elissa?" Eamon asked pointedly, stepping between her and the mess behind his desk.

"Ah, yes my lord. I'm terribly sorry to have disturbed you," Elissa curtsied briefly and left the room. Once she was around the corner of the hall and out of sight of Eamon's study she increased her pace to an unseemly jog, heading directly for the side entrance that would take her to the stables.

She found Alistair curled up against the back wall of the hay loft. He had his thin blanket over his body like a shield, and she saw in a quick glance that he'd torn up his small space. His toys were thrown against a far wall, and she'd found his precious dagger on floor of the stable in plain sight of anyone who walked by.

"Alistair?" she said his name and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. He drew away and she felt her heart break. She hadn't been back to see the boy since the night of the banquet, and she felt suddenly furious. He had no control over the circumstance of his life, and his unfortunate birth had forced everyone to shun him. No one had loved or cared for the boy beyond guilt gifts. Elissa wanted to rage, but she choked the feeling down.

"He wants to send me away," the boy sniffed mightily around his tears, "To the chantry. He said I would make friends there. I don't want friends! I want to stay here!"

"I know, sweetling," Elissa rubbed the boy's back, or what she thought was his back under the straw and blanket.

"I said such horrible things to him," Alistair rose up out of the straw, his expression pained. His face was splotchy, and his thick hair was full of straw. It didn't look like he'd had a bath since his trip to the lake, and he was once again covered in mud and grime.

"We do that sometimes, when someone we love hurts us," Elissa said softly, opening her arms to the child. He went to her, throwing himself against her shoulder. His body quivered with sobs, and she rubbed his back for a long time until he slowly relaxed. Elissa realized with some surprise he'd fallen asleep.

Unwilling to wake the boy, she sat there with her back propped against the loft wall until her legs lost feeling and the light started to dim. She gave some thought to waking the boy for the evening meal, but voices stilled her. She recognized one as Arl Eamon, and the other seemed to be a servant. After a moment the ladder to the loft rattled and Eamon's head appeared over the edge. He held a lantern aloft, searching for Alistair. When the light spilled across Elissa and the sleeping boy tucked into her arms, the Arl's face went slack with shock.

Elissa, trained for years to school her features and gestures, let all of her rage and displeasure show on her face for Eamon to see. She showed him with her eyes that _she knew_ and what she thought of his supposed kind hearted treatment of the child. She could see rage fight with horror behind the lord's face, and after a moment Eamon disappeared back down the ladder. Elissa felt suddenly unsure and fearful. Her parents had begged her to leave the matter alone, and she had promised to do just that. Now though, she was deeply involved and she had no idea what to do about it. She couldn't leave Alistair alone to suffer his fate, she knew that. Dozens of ideas flashed through her mind, some as silly as throwing on a cloak and running away with the boy.

All of her fanciful plans vanished when the sound of heavy boots thudded across the stable floor. The ladder shook again and Eamon reappeared. He didn't stop as he had before and climbed all the way into the loft. He stepped aside without meeting Elissa's horrified eyes as another person climbed over the top of the ladder.

Heavy foot falls echoed in the silence and it was enough to startle Alistair, who sleepily turned his head to see what the commotion was about. Elissa felt him freeze and suspected he was held pinned by the same horror that held her paralyzed. The man crouched by Elissa's legs, his expression somber as he watched her tighten her arms around the boy.

"I see you've met my son," Maric sighed heavily.

Elissa was terrified, but she kept her features stony. She tightened her grip around the boy, as if that could somehow protect both of them. The men were unarmed, but that didn't mean they didn't have guards down below that could arrange a convenient accident. They would send condolences to her parents, and Elissa would become one of countless inconvenient truths silenced in the name of politics.

"She didn't do anything," Alistair suddenly spoke up. His eyes were wide, "And she didn't ask. I didn't tell her. She doesn't know."

Maric tore his eyes from Elissa down to the boy. A small smile touched his lips and he inclined his golden head. His hair was pulled back from his face in a simple half tail, and his shoulder length locks fell around his face where he hunched over.

"I know you didn't say anything, my boy. Lady Elissa is wickedly intelligent," Maric's eye's glinted in the twilight, "It seems she figured this out on her own."

Alistair turned then, fixing his wide hazel eyes on Elissa. She didn't look away from the men standing over her. Her eyes flickered from their unarmed hands as she mentally planned an escape if it was called for. It would be difficult, with the boy, but if she threw Alistair's little cloak in Maric's face and kicked hard enough..

"Elissa," Maric's voice was patient, "You're not in any danger. We're not going to hurt you. Or the boy."

Alistair gasped and hunched closer to Elissa, shaking his head. Maric looked back down at the boy and frowned, then shook his head.

"We need to start this over," the king said and looked over his shoulder at Eamon, who still stood in stony silence, "Eamon, would you give us a bit of privacy?"

"I'm not sure a conversation in the loft of the stables can be in any way private, my king," Eamon replied dryly.

"Then I suggest you do your best to ensure the stableyard is empty," the king replied with some heat. Eamon gave a short nod and disappeared down the steps. After a moment of silence, Maric turned back to Elissa and Alistair. He shifted and settled from a crouch to sit cross legged on the straw floor by Elissa's legs.

"What happened to bring this on?" Maric finally asked, picking up a straw so he could shred it between his large fingers. It was a casual gesture, and he stared at it rather than Elissa and Alistair. They relaxed, slowly, and Alistair was the one that answered.

"Arl Eamon said he's going to send me to a monastery, your Majesty," the boy said softly and scrubbed a dirty hand across his eyes. He left a wide streak of grim across his cheek and defiantly added, "I don't want to go to a monestary. Sir."

Maric nodded, his lips pressing together, "And how did Lady Elissa become involved?"

"I ran into her accidently when I left Arl Eamon's study," Alistair ducked his sadly, "And she followed me here. She was very nice."

"I see," Maric discarded the shreds of straw and draped his hands across his leather clad legs, "How did she know how to find you?"

"I…uh…." Alistair glanced up at the woman holding him, and she took up the story.

"I met Alistair a few days after my family arrived. He was working in the kennels, and a miscommunication earned him a flogging from the kennel master. I tracked Alistair down and apologized for what he'd suffered. He's a delightful little boy, and when I saw him leave Eamon's study so upset I had to find out what was wrong," she absently reached out a hand and brushed a lock of dirty hair out of Alistair's eyes.

"And where are we going to go from here with this, my lady?" Maric asked, raising a golden eyebrow. She stared at Maric for several quiet moments and then down at Alistair, who looked fearfully between the two.

"He can go to Highever with me," Elissa said after a moment, "If that's what you want, Alistair. You'll be my ward. There is no one there that would know of you, and you're not of an age that would make your appearance suspicious."

Alistair's eyes widened and he turned his head sharply to look at Maric, who regarded both of them with a frown.

"I'll speak to my father," Elissa added, "It won't be a problem. He'll slip in with the rest of the pages and no one will be any wiser."

Maric was silent for a time, staring at his hands. Finally, he nodded and looked back up.

"I can?" Alistair gasped in a shocked whisper as Elissa squeezed him in a quick hug.

"You can't stay here any longer, and if going to the monastery is intolerable, this might be the only other solution," Maric said softly, raising his blue eyes to the boy, "I don't want you to be unhappy."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Alistair answered in a soft quavering voice. Elissa could feel him trembling against her body.

Maric grimaced at the sound and Elissa saw him squeeze his eyes shut in the near dark. The king pushed himself to his feet and in moments Elissa and Alistair were alone with the horses in the stable.


	8. Chapter 8

"You all right, my sweet?" Elissa smiled and brushed Alistair's unruly hair out of his face. He was sitting in the back of a covered wagon that held fresh supplies for the journey between Redcliff and Highever. His precious belongings were tucked in beside him in a new backpack, and she made sure he had a full waterskin.

"Yes, my Lady," the boy blinked owlishly and huddled more into his little corner.

"This is only for a day or two," Elissa reminded him, "Until we're away from all the other nobles leaving Redcliffe. Once we split off you can ride with me."

Alistair nodded and clutched the book she'd given him close to his chest. She'd been delighted when the boy told her he could read and knew his numbers. At least Eamon had done that right.

Elissa secured the flaps of the wagon and stepped away to climb into the saddle of her horse. The Highever guard holding the reins passed them up and she gave him a warm smile. He sketched a quick salute and then climbed up next to the wagon driver.

Elissa wheeled her horse and rode him around the side of the wagon so she could join her father at the head of the Highever host. He sat on his horse next to her brother while the two watched the King's party depart.

"All settled?" Bryce asked with a raised eyebrow. His expressed was blank other than that little tell.

"Comfortably," Elissa nodded, not meeting his gaze. She on her bay with her back straight and her head held high.

"I trust you on this, pup," her father murmured softly, exchanging a somber look with Fergus.

"Thank you, Father," Elissa nodded again, but her eyes were drawn to shimmer of gold embossed armor. The King's party was finally done mingling outside the gates of Redcliffe and the honor guard smoothly slid into neat rows. They set off, the first of the groups to depart. Elissa thought back to their arrival, when she'd gawked like a peasant at their passing. That in mind she held her chin a little higher and deigned to look at the passing soldiers as though they were on inspection. They were past in moments, and then he was there.

Maric again rode with his son and Teyrn Loghain at his sides. His armor gleamed, and so did his eyes as he rode by. This time though instead of scanning the crowd his eyes locked on Elissa's, and she inclined her head in silent acknowledgement. The king returned the gesture somberly, and then they were gone. Elissa stared off into the distance for a moment and then turned away. She caught her father's unreadable gaze and shrugged.

"Finally," Elissa sighed with relief as the last of the bannorn parties broke off to trail after the royal host when the road out of Redcliffe forked to the east. Only the Highever host remained, taking the northern road toward the Storm Coast.

"Indeed," Elissa's father agreed, his eyes flickering nervously, "I feel like we're riding around with a primed barrel of that explosive powder the dwarves keep trying to sell me."

"He's just a little boy, Father," Elissa chuckled softly.

"He's more than that, and you damn well know it. To my sorrow," Bryce bit back, draining Elissa's humor quickly. She pulled at the reins of her horse.

"I promised him I'd let him ride with me after the other hosts left," she said woodenly, "I'll be at the back of the column."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Elissa," Bryce said slowly, but stopped when his daughter leveled angry eyes on him.

"I didn't take him out of that life just to shove him back into the shadows again. He _will have a normal life_ ," Elissa yanked savagely on the reins, startling her mount. He reared a bit off his front hooves as he spun around and trotted back past the rest of the column. Elissa felt her mother's eyes on her as she cantered past the carriage, but she did not stop. She hurried to the wagons and nodded to the guard sitting next to the driver of the first wagon. He nodded back and reached under the oiled canvas covering the interior. A moment later Alistair climbed under edge of the covering to join the guard and driver. He was rubbing sleepy eyes, but they grew wide when he looked around at the countryside laid out before him.

Elissa held her arms out and the guard helped Alistair scramble across the seat and then lifted him into the saddle in front of Elissa's seat. She nodded her thanks and pulled away from the wagon. Her horse shivered his back as he adjusted to the changed seat on his back, but the boy's weight was negligible.

"Where are we?" Alistair breathed, his head swiveling about to take in the soaring peaks rising up on either side of the road.

"We just passed West Hill, and we're entering the Coastlands," Elissa nodded to the left, "The Storm Coast is a little north, and that's where we're going. We should be to Highever tomorrow night."

"I've never been out of Redcliffe," the boy breathed softly.

"I know, sweeling," Elissa gave him a quick hug, "If you start to get cold, let me know. The weather is much cooler up here, even in the summer."

"Aye, your ladyship," Alistair whispered and Elissa smiled. He was absorbed in the journey and she gently coaxed him to ask her questions as they rode. She had some of his trust, but the experience was so new and sudden the boy still wasn't sure where exactly he stood. She answered his questions with stories her teachers and father shared with her as a child.

"…and after Flemeth killed Bann Conobar the captain of his guard, Sarim Coulsand, assumed control of his lands," Elissa smiled at Alistair's gasp.

"She _killed him?_ " the boy was shocked, and then paused, "Wait, isn't Coulsand your name?"

"It is; he was one of my ancestors," Elissa nodded, her chin bumping into the top of Alistair's head. It was close to evening when the column would normally halt for the night, but her father was pushing them a little further so they could bunk in one of the vassal keeps that protected his lands.

"But if he was a bann," Alistair trailed off in thought, "How did your family become a teyrnir?"

Elissa chuckled, "That is a long and bloody story best told in broad daylight, not as evening edges in on us."

* * *

"Hold still," Elissa ordered firmly and nodded to the elven servant to continue. Alistair fidgeted again and she gave him a sharp look. He blushed and sat still.

"You're going to look like an Avaar if you don't stand still," Elissa shook her head as her maid continued clipping at Alistair's mop of unruly hair. It had taken several scrubbings to get all the dirt and grime out to Elissa's satisfaction. His hair was considerably lighter than she'd originally thought, a soft tawny blond that reminded her of a lion skin rug from Antiva in her father's study.

"What's an Avaar?" Alistair asked curiously, but he stayed still as the hair fell away. He wrinkled his nose when clumps fell down and tickled his face.

"Savage tribes that live in the Frostback mountains," Elissa answered, "They cut strange patterns in their hair. It's very odd."

"Will I get to see them someday?" he asked eagerly, his eyes bright.

"Of course," Elissa replied immediately, "They're fierce warriors, though. You'll want to learn to handle a blade before you meet them."

Alistair's eyes grew wide, and she couldn't help but smile. Her maid worked quickly and soon she had the boy's ragged locks trimmed back close to his head. She'd left it a bit longer in the front so that a short fringe brushed his forehead. The elven lady looked at him critically from all sides and then pulled out a tub of sandlewood scented grease. She rubbed a tiny amount on her fingers and brushed them through the short fringe until it stuck up and back in an artfully messy sweep. She stepped back and inclined her head in question to Elissa.

"It's adorable, Ashlyn. Thank you," Elissa grinned broadly and held up a hand mirror for Alistair to look into while the maid brushed the hair from his shoulders. The boy's mouth drooped in shock and he looked from the mirror to Elissa before stammering his thanks to her, and to the maid, who tutted at him happily.

"You look dashing, sweetling," Elissa gave the boy a hug and then sent him to play outside. He dashed out of the room, laughing as he charged out of the family wing and out to the yards where other children were bound to be playing games.

"He's a sweetheart," Ashlyn murmured after the boy, shaking her head. She resumed her sweeping, cleaning up the last of the hairy mess from Elissa's floor.

"That he is," Elissa absently gathered up her maid's tools and tucked them back into the case she stored them in. The elf had been her maid as long as Elissa could remember and had long since given up scolding the noble for helping with such mundane things as cleaning.

"Will he be staying with us long? Shall I send for the tailors?" Ashlyn asked easily, "He'll need warmer clothes if he's to stay over the winter."

"He'll be with us for a long time," Elissa crossed her arms and leaned on the post of her canopied bed, "I'm taking him on as my ward. He'll need a new wardrobe suitable for the seasons, and a page's outfit. Probably two, actually. I can see him being hard on his clothes."

"Aye mistress," Ashlyn nodded her head and Elissa knew she was making a mental list.

"See the armorer, also. I want to get him started on weapon training, so he'll need some practice gear," Elissa added, drumming her fingers on her arm, "And see about getting him into lessons. Reading, numbers, the usual."

"Are you warding or adopting him?" Ashlyn's eyes twinkled with humor. In private as they were Elissa's maid was comfortably familiar with her mistress.

"Ehhh…" Elissa glanced away and then gave her maid a lopsided grin when the elven woman laughed, as soft tinkling sound that reminded Elissa more of bells than laughter.

"I'll see to it, mistress," the elf bowed and took her leave, leaving Elissa to sigh and fall down on her large comfortable bed. She ran her fingers through the thick fur of her bedspread and stretched her arms.

"It's good to be home."


	9. Chapter 9

"Higher," Elissa ordered tersely and again leveled the buckler strapped to her left arm in front of Alistair's face. The boy screwed his face in concentration and brought his wooden practice sword in a mighty overhand blow that just barely jostled Elissa's guard. The boy's face was flushed red and sweat plastered his close cropped hair to his head.

"Excellent," Elissa relaxed and stood straight, "That's enough for now. Go get some water."

"But…" Alistair shook his head, as he always did when she called a halt to their training.

"No buts," Elissa said firmly, "Water. Now. Then go get cleaned up for your lessons."

Alistair hunched his shoulders and sighed, but he did as he was told. He racked his training sword and hurried to the nearby well to draw a buck of water and drink several ladles of the cool drink. He turned back, waved to Elissa, and then darted off into the castle to follow the rest of her instructions.

"He's got spirit, I'll give him that," Fergus laughed as the boy darted around the older Cousland. He hefted one of the heavy steel training swords from off the wall and moved to the middle of the room so he could start stretching.

"Aye, he's a handful," Elissa shook her head ruefully, "I have so much more sympathy for Mother and Father."

Fergus stilled mid lunge, "You really care that much for the lad?"

"Of course," Elissa cut a sidelong glance at her brother, "Unlike you, I've no desire to start a family of my own. Alistair more than fills that gap."

"'The Lady doth protest too much'" Fergus laughed, "The more you loudly swear to us that you'll never marry and have children, the more money goes into the betting pool on when you'll give in."

"You have a betting pool about my love life?" Elissa cringed and then scowled at her brother.

"Oh yes, my lovely sister. When you fall, you're going to fall hard. Do hurry up, though. My pick is fast approaching."

* * *

"You've finished your lessons?" Elissa stood in the great hall of Castle Highever, her family's ancestral home for nearly a thousand years. Massive fires burned at either end of the hall in an effort to fight back against the bitter chill that came with living on the coast in the winter. Proximity to the Waking Sea meant Highever didn't get as much snow as southern Ferelden, but temperatures still grew uncomfortably cold as winter progressed.

"Aye, Lady," Alistair made a valiant effort to stand still under Elissa's stern gaze, but his eyes strained around the edges. His eyes were pleading, begging her to consider his request.

"And your chores?" Elissa continued, tapping a finger absently on her crossed arms.

"Aye, all of them," the boy ducked his head in a quick firm nod.

"The seneschal has no more duties for you?" She asked skeptically, although she already know the answer.

"No, ma'am! He told me I could ask," Alistair's hands twitched at his sides and Elissa suspected he was considering clasping his hands together to outright beg her.

Elissa held the boy's gaze for another moment and then she relaxed and grinned, reaching out a hand to ruffle his short cropped hair. The boy's eye's widened as he realized she'd been teasing him.

"Aye, lad. Go have fun. Extra layers, the cold can be damp. I'll send the cooks out with a treat in a bit," Elissa drew the boy into a quick embrace before releasing him to shoot like a startled rabbit out the small side door of the great hall. She vaguely heard garbled thanks as he tore at the barrier. She caught a glimpse of fat fluffy snowflakes and heard the delighted screams of other children before the door was slammed shut.

"How many times did we have discussions exactly like that?" Bryce Cousland stepped up beside his daughter, who turned a small happy smile on her father.

"And every time I was certain you would find some reason to keep me inside for more stuffy lessons," Elissa shook her head and tucked a strand of errant hair behind her ear. She wore her long hair loose so it would dry from a morning bath without giving her a chill.

Bryce chuckled and waved her back to the long table where they'd been taking tea when Alistair had crept in with his plaintive request to play outside in the snow with the other children. Elissa picked up a sheet of parchment and her tea cup. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose, realizing the drink had gone cold.

"Grain shipments have increased a quarter fold since last year, and we can expect a similar increase next year," Bryce nodded to the document in Elissa's hands.

"The tariffs are going to keep increasing right along with it," Elissa quirked an unhappy eyebrow and picked up another document, this time with lines and boxes all across it and writing so minuscule she had to squint to make out the spidery print, "Yes, see here? This came in the missives last week. New import taxes on a sliding scale, instead of by stone weight."

"Let me see?" Elissa handed the document to her father when he extended his hand. His expression grew dark and frustrated, "This has Loghain written all over."

"I thought as much myself," Elissa nodded and drummed her fingers on the table, "Obviously there are some ways we can work around it, but all of them are inconvenient and would only be temporary fixes."

"How did he get this approved without the rest of the nobles?" Bryce's lips twisted into an irritated frown.

"More insidiously than I would have expected from him," Elissa shuffled several of the documents spread out on the table between the two until she found another she'd been looking for, "Ah, here we go. Did you read this?"

Bryce glanced at the document and then frowned, "I did, but it was just the usual decrees and taxation proposals from the capital. Same thing they send out every year."

"Almost the same," Elissa corrected and tapped her finger on a subparagraph deep in the document. Her father leaned forward to spin the document on the table and scan the indicated section. He was silent for several moments and then his eyebrows shot up.

"That insidious bastard," Bryce muttered darkly and then jerked his eyes to his daughter, "Pardon my language, my dear."

"That wasn't nearly as colorful as what I said," Elissa smiled sardonically, shaking her head, "He's trying everything he can to strangle trade with Orlais, and that section might as well have our names listed right on it, it's that specific."

"He had to realize I would never stand for this," the older Cousland tossed the document back on the table and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm sure he does, and that's probably why this was sent out in the last packet before winter," Elissa nodded, crossing her arms.

"Leaving us snowed in until Spring, unable to raise objections before the decrees automatically go into effect at First Month," Bryce finished for her, "I guess he's starting to get a feel for the more underhanded parts of politics."

"He really doesn't like Orlais, and the King shares many of those feelings," Elissa sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair.

"None of us like Orlais," Bryce shook his head, "But the occupation is twenty years gone and the new Empress has no interest in anything other than trade and the arts. We can't keep clutching grudges to our breasts."

"Colorful," Elissa twisted her lips into a small smile and waved to the annual taxation proposal, "But the question becomes, what do we do about this? The roads are nearly impassable. We can try to send a courier with our objections…"

"But he'll likely encounter numerous inexplicable delays that prevent an audience before the end of the year," Bryce filled in the rest when she trailed off, "No, it's got to be me. That's the only way we can ensure the objections are lodged properly."

"It's the dead of winter, Father," Elissa sat up straight, "You're not as young as you used to be. Travel now is too dangerous."

"I'm not an invalid, pup," her father laughed.

"Send me instead," Elissa leaned forward, "They wouldn't dare put me off, not as your daughter."

"What? No, out of the question," her father shook his head vigorously, "It's far too dangerous."

"It's snow, father," Elissa smiled, "I'll take a small escort. We can take the sleighs and draft horses. We'll be to the capital in less than a week."

"I said no, and I won't hear another word of it," her father said with finality.

* * *

"Bryce, she's not a little girl anymore," Eleanor Cousland wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and smiled up at his grumpy face. They had retired after the evening meal and were preparing for bed. Elissa had gone to her mother, as the teyrn knew she would, to plead her case for the trip to Denerim.

"I'm well aware of that, Eleanor," her husband frowned mightily, staring over her head to the snowy winterland outside their bedroom window. The family quarters were an internal wing of the sprawling compound and overlooked a garden courtyard his wife was fond of tending in the spring and summer.

"Am I to assume your concern for our daughter's welfare has nothing to do with snow?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow and leaned back so she could draw Bryce's gaze down to hers.

"It's not an unreasonable fear, love," Bryce raised his arms and embraced his wife tightly. He kissed the top of her head and then rested his cheek against her silken hair.

"You don't honestly think he'd do anything to compromise her?" Eleanor's voice was scandalized, even muffled against his chest.

"You've seen the way he looks at her," Bryce said simply, "And the gossip mongers have been tying their tongues in knots since Redcliffe. We know the truth of what happened, but having that conversation with her in the stables as he did…that was poorly done."

Eleanor sighed, "Bryce, he's not a leper. He's the _King._ He, more than anyone, knows the scandal that would erupt if he sullies Elissa's honor."

"He better. I'd run him through," Bryce said darkly, which earned a muffled chuckle from his wife.

"I'm fairly sure your daughter would take care of that long before you could draw your blade," Eleanor leaned back and grabbed her husband's hand so she could draw him toward their large bed, "But I think you're borrowing trouble. The King is a gentleman before anything else. He's not show any interest in the women of court since the Queen passed."

"Except for Alistair's mother," Bryce reminded her, although he did not resist her urging toward the bed.

"Those were…special circumstances," Eleanor stilled and then smiled, "But enough talk. The night is cold and you look like just the thing to warm me up, dear husband."


	10. Chapter 10

"You're leaving?" Alistair's eyes were hugely round, wide enough for her to see white all around his hazel irises.

"Just for a bit, love," Elissa crouched down in front of the boy, who stood in the middle of her room watching servants scramble to pack for her trip to Denerim.

"But…" he hesitated and then continued sadly, "I'll miss you."

"Oh sweet Alistair," Elissa pulled the boy close into a tight hug. He threw his arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her neck, "It will just be few a few weeks, no more than a month. I'll be back before First Day."

"You promise?" the boy drew back somberly.

"I promise," she reassured him, "And I also promise to bring you a lovely gift from the capital."

The boy's eyes brightened and Elissa smiled. She ruffled his hair, and he grumbled good naturedly before going to her looking glass to carefully repair the damage. Now that he wasn't expected to hide behind layers of dirt the boy had become surprisingly fastidious.

Damage repaired, he gave Elissa another quick hug and darted out her door. He stumbled and sketched a quick bow to her father as the gentleman stepped in front of him. Bryce inclined his head and raised an eyebrow watching the boy dart off deeper into the compound.

"I've asked Fergus to see to his lessons while I'm gone," Elissa crossed her arms and leaned back on one hip, "And mother has promised to keep him busy with his page duties. He looked positively horrified when I told him I would expect a report from you on his behavior when I returned. I expect you'll have no trouble from him."

"He's a boy of ten, Elissa," her father glanced over her shoulder and took in the chaos of her rooms in a quick glance, "If he's not getting into trouble then there's something wrong with him."

Elissa chuckled and sent silent thanks to the Maker for giving her to such a loving and compassionate father. She stepped forward and embraced the teyrn in an unusually public display of affection. He didn't hesitate to embrace her back, though.

"I'll be back quickly, Father, and with a tax code that won't impoverish us," she vowed sincerely. Her father glanced around at the servants and then jerked his head toward the door. To her credit Elissa smiled and nodded, following along behind him toward his quarters. He opened the door and followed her into his sitting room.

"It's not the tax code that has me worried, pup," Bryce shook his head and waved her to her mother's divan. Elissa sat and he followed, taking her hands in his own, "This will be your first trip to Dererim alone, and it won't be under the pretenses of Wintersend or a Landsmeet. It will be just you…and an audience with the king."

Elissa's face was blank for a moment and then her eyes widened, "Father!"

"It's a reasonable fear, Elissa," Bryce said firmly, still holding her hands, "You're neither blind nor simple, girl. The King has paid more attention to you this year alone than he has to any woman at court since…since the Queen passed."

"That is no reason to…to think…," Elissa shook her head and looked appalled, "I'm not going to fix the tax code by seducing the king, Father."

"What? Maker, girl! That's not what I was suggesting," Bryce suddenly laughed, understanding dawning, "I'm not talking about _you_ , I trust you completely. It's him I'm not so sure about."

"I'm quite sure the King won't even notice I'm there, Father. At least not for anything more than an audience about the taxes," Elissa shook her head, "And you know me. I'll never do anything to sully our family's honor."

"I know, pup. Just indulge an old fashioned father and be careful, please?" Bryce leaned forward and kissed his bemused daughter on her forehead.

"I promise, Father."

* * *

"Father is absolutely going to lose his mind when he hears about this," Elissa said absently as she smoothed her hands down the front of her velvet gown. The champagne colored fabric shimmered warmly in the candle light of her room as darkness fell around Denerim.

"That would be a reasonable assessment, mistress," Ashlyn stood behind the teyrn's daughter. She had her hands buried in Elissa's hair in an attempt to tame the golden mass into an elegant plait, "Do you think the sapphire comb, or the yellow topaz?"

"You seem entirely unfazed by all of this. It was supposed to be a simple audience, not a private dinner with the king, and _only_ the king," Elissa quirked an eyebrow and passed her maid the blue sapphire comb her father brought back from Orlais two years before.

"Pairing the gold of your dress with the blue is a nice touch," Ashlyn agreed as she accepted the trinket and slid it home, pinning the hidden tale of the plait firmly into place. She stepped back to study her work critically, humming softly under her breath as she plucked out a strand to hang in a loose curl along Elissa's long throat. She smiled happily and waved toward the floor length looking glass on one end of Elissa's guest suite of the King's palace.

"Ashlyn, you're a miracle worker," Elissa breathed, throwing an appreciatively look to her maid, who curtsied far more elegantly than Elissa ever could have.

"It's not a miracle when I've got such lovely material to work with," the maid's eyes twinkled merrily.

"Still…this is incredible," Elissa twisted to see all sides of her hair and outfit. The skirt hung down in a pale gold cascade from a shimmering silverite belt that rested low on Elissa's hips. The bodice of the dress dipped in a gentle scoop across her chest before sloping down her arms to wide sleeves that trailed as long as the hem of the skirt.

"You don't think the bodice is too low?" Elissa suddenly raised a hand to her neckline, feeling nervous. The dress was not nearly as low cut as the dress she'd worn to the Wintersend ball, but it also wasn't throat high as the current fashion tended toward.

"It's neither too high, nor too low," Ashlyn brushed Elissa's hands away from fussing at the neckline, "It does nothing to tease a gentleman's gaze, and it would be criminal to cover up your beautiful collar, mistress."

"I suppose you're right," Elissa said uncertainly and then jumped when a polite knock tapped on the door to her rooms. Elissa felt her eyes widen and her heart hammer in her chest. She was paralyzed and could only look to her maid, who smiled indulgently. Ashlyn turned and walked sedately to the door, far calmer than her mistress was. She opened the door for one of Elissa's Highever guards, who announce blandly that a servant for the King had arrived as scheduled for Lady Elissa.

The moment of panic passed, and Elissa smoothed her expression to one of benign indifference. She gave Ashlyn a small smile and then stepped out into the hall outside her guestroom. The king's servant bowed deeply and turned to lead her down the hall. Elissa's personal guards fell in behind her and she couldn't help feeling a little silly. Here she was dressed far more extravagantly than even at her coming out celebration years before, flanked by two clanking soldiers with Highever's crossed spears embossed on their steel breastplates. The torch lit halls were not empty and there were more than a few turned heads and whispers behind raised hands when she passed. Elissa kept her head high and reminded herself that she was just like any other noble lady traveling through the halls of the king's palace. She almost believed it, too.

The large mabari statues that lined the hallway loomed out of the flickering torchlight, and for the first time in her life, the ubiquitous symbol of Ferelden filled her with unease instead of pride. She followed the servant patiently down the dark green rug that ran the length of the hallway and silently wished he'd quicken his pace, to get her out from underneath the dogs and away from the prying eyes of the palace. He did not, of course. It would have been unseemly to rush, and would have drawn far more attention than Elissa wanted, however much she might wish the journey over.

And then it was. Elissa clamped down hard on a nervous shiver that tried to shake her body. The servant nodded politely to the four Royal Guards that stood at silent attention outside the imposing door of the Royal Apartments. One of the helmeted guards nodded back and stepped out of his position to rap smartly on the solid door. It had to be several inches of metal reinforced hardwood, if Elissa had to hazard a guess. It would take a solid battering ram and many strong shoulders to split that door.

The door was opened promptly by another guard on the inside. The first guard stepped back, and so did Elissa's escort. The servant bowed deeply and waved his arm for Elissa to enter. She took a deep steadying breath, looked over her shoulder to her guards, and then stepped through the door under the interior guard's watchful gaze. Her guards remained outside, taking up station across the hall from the door to wait.

"My lady," the guard's voice was surprisingly soft under all the steel wrapped around his body, "This way, please."

"Thank you," Elissa murmured, choking down on another tremor of nerves that threatened to strangle her.

The guard turned and led the way across a long comfortably furnished sitting room. There were a series of doors to one side of the long hall but they were all closed. She assumed they led to the sleeping rooms of the King and the rest of the royal family. She firmly ripped her mind away from that thought as soon as it entered her head and concentrated on the open doorway on the opposite side of the room. The guard led her to the open door and extended his hand to indicate she should enter. He inclined his head politely as she passed and quite firmly shut the door at her back.

"Good evening, my lady," the King's deep voice cut through Elissa's screaming mind and she turned wide eyes on him where he stood leaning against the mantle of the room's only fireplace. A bright fire roared cheerfully in the hearth, throwing a warm golden glow around the room. There were flickering candles trying to add their light but the fire was clearly intended to be the main source of light. A large table dominated the center of the room and though it could have accommodated at least a dozen diners, only two places were set at its head.

Training kicked in an Elissa dipped into a deep curtsy, cursing the sudden bloom of heat that seared up her throat and into her cheeks at the sight of the King. He'd exchanged his silverite armor and fanciful doublets for supple leather breeches and a fur lined leather jerkin edged in silver thread. Two fur edged flaps crossed his shoulders and clasped around buttons just under his throat.

"You look exquisite, Lady Cousland," the king left his place at the mantle and crossed the room in a few long strides so he could politely take her hands and kiss her fingers reverently, his eyes twinkling over her knuckles.

"I..uh…thank you, my King," Elissa wanted to pummel her brain into working, but the firelight was flickering through Maric's long loose hair, and it was more distracting than she ever imagined hair could ever be.

"I'm grateful you accepted my invitation," Maric continued over her stuttering. He tucked her hand into his arm and lead her to a richly upholstered chair by the fire. He settled her into the seat and smoothly slipped a crystal goblet of ruby red wine into her barely functional fingers. He returned to his place at the mantle, casually leaning against it as he sipped his own wine.

"I'm flattered beyond comparison at the honor, your Highness," Elissa said politely as she took a small sip of her wine and raised her eyebrows appreciatively, "This is excellent. Antivan. Seleny?"

"Indeed. Well done," Maric smiled, stretching his neatly tripped beard across white teeth.

"I do have to admit," Elissa took another sip of her wine, "I'm more than a bit surprised at this invitation. I only expected a brief audience to discuss tax loopholes."

"A king isn't allowed to entertain a noble guest when she visits?" Maric's eyes were mirthful and he waved a hand grandly, "I've got this whole big palace. Sometimes it's nice to have a quiet dinner without three hundred other people talking over us."

Elissa blinked and took a long slow drink, indicating with her manners exactly what she thought of that weak excuse.

"I see you're not buying that," he laughed ruefully and shrugged, peeking at her innocently from under a rakish lock of his golden hair.

"Not that your affairs are the concern of an entire nation," Elissa said with feigned lightness, "But I can say with fair confidence that you haven't privately entertained another unmarried noble woman in my lifetime."

The king cringed, and she was almost afraid she'd upset him, but he smiled again, "Am I that obvious?"

"That depends on what you mean by obvious, my king," Elissa rested her glass on a small table next to her chair and crossed her wrists in her lap, "But I'm fairly certain the other nobles aren't going to buy that this dinner is discuss tax code."

"And you, my lady? What do you think this dinner is for?" Maric's expression was thoughtful and though he feigned indifference Elissa could see an intent gleam in his gaze.

"My thoughts?" Elissa drew up a hand and blinked with equally feigned indifference, "I'm just a dutiful noble answering her king's call."

The gleam died from Maric's gaze as he looked away, and she could see that though he was amused by her banter she could also see that he didn't want the evening full of the usual empty backhanded speech that he received from other nobles. She dropped the hand at her throat to lift her goblet again and took a long sip. She crossed her legs and relaxed lazily into the chair. She stared at him over the edge of the glass for a moment.

"Although I do have to admit," she savored the spicy heat of the wine as it slipped down her throat, "If I put on all this getup just to discuss the tax code over canapés, I'm going to be extremely put out with you."

The king straightened and drew his gaze to Elissa, taking in her relaxed posture in a quick glance. He inclined his head and set his empty wine glace on the mantle. He extended a hand and Elissa accepted it, allowing him to draw her to her feet. He waved his free hand to the table and helped her into her seat.

"Honestly the mantle of formality gets outrageously heavy," Maric said after she was settled. His timing was perfect because at that moment a servant politely knocked and entered with their meal.

"It can be burdensome," Elissa agreed as the servant slipped a bowl of soup in front of her. Another glass of wine joined it and she nodded her thanks to the near silent elven man while he worked. His large grey eyes flickered but he gave no other sign of acknowledgement.

"And that's why I invited you tonight," Maric shrugged his wide shoulders, "So we can just be two people discussing whatever suits our pleasure without having to weigh measure each carefully selected word."

"Well _you_ may not, but I'm certainly going to be weighing and measuring very carefully," Elissa laughed around a nervous flutter in her gut.

"Fine," Maric sighed dramatically, "I suppose we'll just have to discuss that tedious tax code all evening."

Elissa cringed, "I yield. No weighing and measuring."

"Excellent! I knew you'd see it my way," Maric grinned broadly and took a sip of his wine as he exchanged his soup bowl for a covered plate laid out on the table. He gave her an inquiring look replaced her bowl as well when she nodded.

"So tell me," Maric said after they were settled again, "What makes Lady Elissa who she is?"

Elissa eyed him around a bite of roast she held to her open mouth. She lowered the bite and shrugged.

"I'm the daughter of an indomitable hero of the war to break Orlais' occupation of our great nation," she set her shoulders proudly and then added offhandedly, "Also the daughter of Teyrn Cousland. I'm very proud of my heritage, but my parents realized long ago I'm ill-suited for a life of flower arrangements and fetes. They've been extraordinarily tolerant of my more unladylike interests."

"Yes, I thought I noticed a few callouses when we danced at Wintersend," Maric's gaze flickered to her hands, "You seem to prefer a one handed grip, if I'm any judge."

Elissa smiled, a warm beaming smile, "I've studied several styles, but my preference is a two blade style."

"Longsword and short or two shortswords?" he inquired curiously, spearing a golden potato from his place.

"Long and short, preferably. Not as defensive as with a shield, but I find I dislike the feeling of my shoulder nearly shattering on each hit. The greater mobility is infinitely more preferable," she waved a hand, miming dodging through a fight.

"It's a tradeoff," Maric nodded and agreed, "Mobility to _not be_ where your enemy's strike will land or having the fortifications to accept the blow."

"That and I was taught by my mother," Elissa continued dryly, "And as she pointed out many times, she learned to fight on the Waking Sea. You can swim in light leather armor. Not so much with plate."

"That, my lady, is a very fair point," Maric laughed and saluted her with his glass.


	11. Chapter 11

"Travel safely, Lady Cousland. Maker speed your travels," the King commanded Elissa somberly. He held her hand to help her step lightly into the sleigh she'd ridden from Highever to Denerim. Another sleigh waited behind hers, massive draft horses with equally massive hooves patiently waiting to pull them back to Highever.

"Thank you again for your generous hospitality, my King," Elissa's cheeks were already rosy from the cold. She slid a fur lined mitten over the hand she'd left bare for the king to give a parting kiss.

"My home is always open to you and yours, my Lady," the King nodded, "I'll send out an amendment to the codes as soon as the roads thaw. My seneschal provided a copy with my seal for your father?"

"He did, my lord," Elissa nodded politely and felt a pang of sadness as the king murmured one final farewell before stepping back away from the sleighs. At a nod the sleigh drivers cracked the reins over the draft horses backs and the small party from Highever slipped from the large auxiliary stable yard outside Denerim's walls. The roads of the city were a slushy mess unfit for sleigh treads, but the wide open white expanse outside the city was still covered in thick packed snow ideal for sleighs. Elissa had been startled when King Maric had sat waiting on his horse to escort her party to the sleighs. Startled and more than a bit delighted. Her fortnight long visit to the capital had been productive in ways far beyond amending the tax codes.

" _You intrigue me," Maric said with surprising bluntness, "Barely more than a child and yet you navigate the battlefield of the nobility like a tested veteran. Your intelligence is more than a little frightening."_

" _I'll take that as a compliment, your Majest," she answered dryly, "Backhanded, but a compliment nonetheless."_

" _Nothing backhanded about it," Maric shook his head, "You've an eye for detail that most train years go achieve."_

" _I just pay attention," she shrugged helplessly._

" _Do you?" Maric asked as he lifted her hand to kiss her fingers, pinning her in place with a gaze that burned in the blue depths of his eyes._

Elissa shook herself, remembering odd ending to her evening at the King's private table. She'd returned her rooms full of anxious uncertainty and a pounding heart that raced each time she thought back on the feeling of Maric's lips on her fingers.

"Are you cold, my lady?" Ashlyn spoke up, noticing Elissa's shudder, "Shall I get more blankets out?"

"No, thank you," Elissa shook her head. She was grateful for the cold that raced across her flushed skin.

"Don't catch a chill, my lady," her maid admonished, and Elissa smiled. The warm heat that bloomed in her heart every time she thought of the King would prevent that.

* * *

"That…doesn't look good," Maric stood next to his oldest friend, Loghain Mac Tire, and started out at the snow screaming past the large windows that lined the great hall of his palace.

"It'll blow over in a few days," Loghain shrugged and started to turn away until he noticed the dark scowl marring the king's face.

"The Highever party left this morning," the King was staring out into the swirling white. It was so thick they could barely make out the grand cathedral of the Chantry in the distance.

"Ah," Loghain resisted the urge to sigh, already knowing where the king's thoughts were, "Shall I dispatch scouts?"

"No," Maric shook his head and crossed one arm across his chest while he pulled idly at his neatly trimmed beard, "No, that won't be necessary."

"As you wish, your Majesty," Loghain was genuinely surprised. As much attention as Maric had paid the girl, the Loghain expected the man to order a full arm's length search of the snow between Denerim and Highever.

"I'll go myself," Maric turned abruptly and brushed past his friend, already calling for his servants and guards to prepare for travel.

"Are you out of your mind?" Loghain hurried to catch up to the king before the man made it out of the great hall, "You can't go out there. Certainly not for some silly girl."

"I'm sorry, I forget…which of us is the king?" Maric raised an eyebrow and shrugged off the hand Loghain had on his arm.

"Do you even think about what this might look like?" Loghain hissed, falling into step beside Maric as they hurried through the halls to Maric's apartment.

"Like the king gallantly saving a noblewoman from a screaming blizzard?" Maric hazarded with a dry glance at his friend before stepping through the hastily opened door of his apartment. Cailan was inside lounging on an overstuffed divan and reading a book. He looked up in surprise when the two men entered.

"Something the matter, Father?" the young man asked, closing his book with a snap so he could stand and sketch a bow.

"I'm stepping out for a bit," Maric said casually, "Keep an eye on things while I'm gone."

"Erm…" Cailain glanced at Loghain, "Stepping out? Didn't a blizzard blow up? The weapon master canceled today's lessons."

"Which is absolutely absurd," Maric pursed his lips and looked at Loghain as well, "The boy needs to know how to fight in any conditions."

"Father! It's awful out there!" Cailan looked appalled at the thought. A servant hurried into the room and dumped an armload of Maric's heaviest winter furs on a table in front of the king. Maric preferred to dress himself as much as possible, and the servant bowed his way out as silently as he'd entered.

"You can't choose the weather in a battle," Loghain shrugged pointed to Maric, "But only an idiot fights with the snow. This idiot."

"You can't possibly be going out there, Father," Cailain shook his head while he watched Maric pull on his heavy furs.

"Sure I can," Maric said conversationally, "It's not the first blizzard I've gone out in. It's not even all that bad."

"Exactly, which is why you should stay right here instead of going out after some skirt who is in all likelihood perfectly fine," Loghain said bluntly and then immediately wished his words back as Maric stilled.

"Wait, what's this about?" Cailan frowned deeply and looked between his father and Loghain.

"Nothing for you to worry about, son," Maric said brightly, dragging his fur mittens on with a savage yank, "I'm just going to forget your uncle said that and we're all going to go about our day."


	12. Chapter 12

The blizzard hit with little warning, catching the Highever sleighs in the foothills north of Denerim as they traveled the Imperial Highway. The sky had been a hazy grey all morning and the party made good time, but their progress stalled when the winds began to claw savagely at the sleighs as evening began to descend. At first Elissa had thought it would be nothing more than a breezy Ferelden snow storm, but the winds grew stronger and the sleighs started to slide dangerously behind the horses, spooking the animals.

"Shall we stop, my lady?" the driver called out over the wind. His face was obscured by a woolen scarf.

"Stop where?" she demanded, "Take it slow until we can find somewhere to shelter."

"Isn't there a ruin east of us? In the foothills?" Ashlyn leaned close so she could be heard over the screaming wind. Like the driver and Elissa, she was bundled heavily against the cold.

"We'd have to leave the road," Elissa yelled back, shaking her head, "That would be suicide."

"My lady, bridge up ahead," the driver called, his voice straining as he struggled to keep the skittish horses under control.

"Slow and careful," Elissa repeated and resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut. The horses reared and fought the driver but he urged them forward across the steep ravine that the road crossed. The horses balked at the sudden sharp increase to the wind that tore at them, but they were across in moments and Elissa heaved a sigh of relief.

One of the horses pulling the rear sleigh screamed suddenly and all three in the forward sleigh spun around. The larger and heavier sleigh carried their supplies and Elissa's four guards. By rights, it should have had an easier time crossing than the smaller lead sleigh. Elissa's heart jumped into her throat as the rear sleigh's horses reared high and fought their driver. The sleigh was only half of the way across the bridge and she could see through the swirling snow that it was wobbling precariously on its treads while the horses thrashed.

"Get them under control before it tips, man!" her driver yelled out savagely to the other driver.

His call was too late and another gust of wind screamed through the ravine while the horses reared high in the air. The wind tossed the heavy beasts like they were spring foals, throwing them violently across the bridge. They fell against the low stone railing that lined the bridge, and as Elissa watched in mute horror, their momentum rolled them over the useless barrier, taking the sleigh with it. The horses didn't even get a chance to scream before they hit the bottom.

Elissa tore at the blankets holding her hostage in the sleigh seat. She scrambled out of the sleigh with Ashlyn at her heels, despite cries of protest from their driver, who still held his own horses barely under control.

"No, no, no," Ashlyn shook her head as the elf and her mistress crouched against the low wall at the edge of the bridge. They could just make out the shattered remains of the heavy sleigh through the swirling snow. The horses lay side by side, still tied to the sleigh. They'd landed onto the hard ice and rocks at the bottom of the ravine at least thirty feet below. Elissa's eyes scanned the wreckage, desperately seeking movement among the splintered remains.

"They're not moving," Ashlyn cried hoarsely, and Elissa could only reach out an arm and pull her maid close. Though no one spoke of it, one of the soldiers had been the elf's lover. That was part of why Elissa had selected him to go on the trip.

"Maybe…maybe we can check…" Elissa wasn't sure what to do, and she eyed the steep sides of the ravine uncertainly.

"No," Ashlyn said again, her tone flat and dead, "We'd be killed just trying to get down. We need to find you shelter."

Mechanically the maid stood up and dragged Elissa with her, hurrying across the bridge to their sleigh. She shoved her mistress into the vehicle and then climbed in. Elissa was startled and went without fighting.

"Drive," Ashlyn's croaking voice was terse and brooked no argument from the human driver, who nodded and loosened his hold on the horses. They continued down the road in silence. The snow stung horribly at Elissa's face and she tried to pull her scarf higher across her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to the Maker that they would find safety.

* * *

"My lord," Maric squinted against the stinging snow and nodded to one of his scouts when the man appeared out of the darkness. Everyone in Maric's rescue party wore runes that glowed brightly in the darkness and swirling snow. They'd charged out of Denerim as the day had waned toward evening, a maneuver that was probably foolish if Maric were honest with himself. Going out in a blizzard was crazy, but going out in a blizzard at night was tantamount to suicide. Still, his scouts were the best in Ferelden and Maric had lived the first half of his life living out in the elements. No one complained, and his scouts' eyes were everywhere once Maric reigned in their headlong dash. He'd taken an educated guess as to how far the Highever sleighs could have gotten before the blizzard hit. His scouts fanned out along each side of the road, each visible by the glowing runes tied to their fur coats.

"Find something?" Maric asked shortly, slapping a hand against his horse's neck. Like the rest of them, the horse was bundled against the savage cold.

"This way, my lord," the scout's voice was grim and Maric forced his suddenly racing heart to still. He dismounted and handed the reins to one of his guards. He pressed a hand to the scarf at his mouth and accepted the hand his scout offered. They walked hand in hand into the darkness a short distance.

"You'll want to crouch, my lord," the scout shouted over the wind, "A bridge. The wind gusts savagely."

Maric didn't bother to nod, the gesture would have been lost in the darkness. He mirrored the scout's crouched posture and they scampered across the bridge. Midway down the scout pulled him close to the edge, and Maric saw what had drawn their attention. The low stone railing that edged the bridge was scoured clean of snow by the wind, revealing fresh scratches along the inside edge. The ancient stone was scraped hard enough to reveal bright fresh stone. Something large and heavy had dragged along the barrier.

Taking a deep breath Maric nodded to the scout. He leaned his head carefully over the edge of the railing and saw more lights from his scouts at the bottom of the frozen ravine. Their lights bobbed in the darkness as they deftly scaled the sides despite the wind tearing at them.

"They threw down ropes," the scout supplied helpfully, "Let's go see what they found."

"Yes, lets," Maric said grimly, part of him not wanting to know the answer.

"One sleigh, my king," a half frozen scout shouted over the wind as they huddled against Maric's horse for meager shelter, "Five dead, four guards and a driver. Forzen, but the horses were still a bit warm on the inside. Dead no more than four or five hours. The other sleigh from Highever was nowhere in sight."

"The guards were in the second sleigh," Maric shouted back, "The first must have crossed safely."

"Aye, my lord. Shall we keep searching?" the scouts asked. Maric was sorely tempted to tell them to set up a camp with the domed tents they carried that would get them out of the wind, but something in his gut urged him on.

"Keep going, the other sleigh couldn't have gone much further in this," the king ordered and his scouts nodded immediately. They were well trained, and if they thought the king was pushing a little harder than he should for one noble, they kept it to themselves.

* * *

"The horses can't go on much more," the sleigh driver's voice was hoarse and barely audible over the wind.

"No sign of anything we can use as shelter?" Elissa asked shakily, lifting her head to look around. She ducked back into the blankets when stinging snow assaulted her already raw skin. Their pace had slowed to a crawl. The massive draft horses were staggering, barely able to keep their feet.

"Nothing this close to the road," the driver answered shortly, "But I know where we are. There's an old watch tower on that hill."

"What do you have in mind?" Elissa asked as she followed the driver's arm when he pointed, but saw nothing in the darkness.

"You and your maid make for the tower. It's not falling down, just unused. You just start going and walk uphill. It's right at the top. If you go downhill without hitting it, turn around. I'll stay here with the sleigh until daylight and then get help," the driver said tiredly.

"The horses will freeze," Elissa objected, shaking her head, but the driver cut her off.

"And so will you if you don't get shelter," he snapped, "Go, my lady. Get to safety."

Elissa wanted to object further, but Ashlyn pushed off the blankets covering them against the cold. She stood and grabbed Elissa's gloved hand, tugging her firmly out of the sleigh. With no better plan to save the situation she followed numbly behind her maid as the elf forged ahead through the heavy drifts alongside of the road.

"There it is," Ashlyn breathed after a seeming eternity of slogging through the frozen snow. Elissa couldn't feel her feet and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. She just wanted to curl up and sleep in one of the fluffy drifts they pushed through.

Elissa looked up and squinted, but didn't see anything in the dark. To her eyes it was pitch black, with only a few trees peeking out of the darkness and snow. It was then that she realized the wind had subsided.

"This way, my lady," the elf urged her, pulling on her arm as they stumbled the rest of the way up the unending hill.

"How did you see this?" Elissa asked dubiously when a squat stone tower loomed out of the shadows high overhead.

"Elf, mistress," Ashlyn replied simply, "We see well in the dark."

"Ah," Elissa mumbled, "Useful."

They stumbled arm in arm around the tower until they came to an old wooden door. Elissa felt a moment of panic that it might be barred, but the door opened easily when she braced her shoulder on it and shoved. They fell inside and threw the door closed, both leaning against the barrier as the last of their strength left them.

"We need a fire," Ashlyn mumbled around frozen lips. With far more strength than Elissa had, she pushed away from the door and stumbled to the cold firepit built against one wall of the tower. It was a simple round stone building, nearly empty save for a table and a few chairs. It was an outpost to be used in times of turmoil, but otherwise left alone. A simple ladder led up to a level above their heads, and that probably led out to the watchmen's post at the very top.

"There's no wood," Elissa frowned, pushing away from the door so she could stumble over to where her maid cleared a space to start a fire.

"Break the chairs," Ashlyn answered sharply, and Elissa was midway through smashing one of the spindly wooden seats against the wall when she realized her maid was ordering her around like a child. Elissa shrugged. At the moment, propriety was the last thing she cared about.

"Best I could do," Elissa mumbled as she passed a pile of shattered chair to the elf.

"It's fine," Ashlyn had pulled a flint and tinder from a pouch at her belt.

"Where'd you find a candle?" Elissa asked, frowning down at a pathetic stub of candle the elf had stuffed inside a few pieces of cloth and wooden splinters she pulled from the remains of the chair.

"I always carry one," the maid replied tiredly, "No better way to get a fire going in an emergency."

"Ah," Elissa nodded dumbly, "That's brilliant."

"It's my job," the maid shrugged and leaned down to coax tiny flames to life. She slowly built it up until they had a merry, if small, fire burning in the hearth.

"We'll need to break up the rest of the furniture if we want it to keep going," Elissa eyed the flames.

"Aye. Get started on that. I'm going to go up and see if there's anything on the next level we can use," Ashlyn stood and dragged herself up the ladder without another word. Elissa nodded to herself and repeated her treatment of the first chair on the remaining three. She flipped the rickety table onto its side and jerked the legs off. Moving around felt good, and though the room was still frigid, it was out of the wind. She leaned the tabletop against the wall and kicked it hard with her heel. The tabletop split with a dry crack along the grainlines. She repeated the technique until she had four narrow sections and then repeated the process in their long direction. Soon she had a pile of splintered planks as wide as her hand and as long as her arm.

Ashlyn was back by the time she finished and shook her head when Elissa asked if there was anything above them that might be useful.

"Now…I suppose we wait," the human girl sank down next to the fire, so grateful for the heat it gave off she wanted to sob.

"I'll check on the driver at first light," Ashlyn muttered, "And see if I can find us something to eat."

"I can hunt," Elissa said defensively.

"Oh, with what, my lady?" the maid asked stiffly and Elissa realized with a sudden lurch of heart that other than a belt dagger, she was unarmed. The rest of her weapons were at the bottom of the ravine with her solders and supplies.

"My father was a trapper. I can find us something," Ashlyn put a wooden plank onto the fire and pressed her lips together into a tight line.

"Ash, I'm sorry," Elissa reached out a hand to her maid's shoulder. She could feel the girl trembling even through her heavy furs.

"He asked me to marry him," the elf said suddenly, still not looking at Elissa.

"He did? Why didn't you say something before?" Elissa gasped, leaning forward to put her arms around the elf.

"I told him no," the maid replied hoarsely, "I told him I wouldn't let him ruin his life marrying a knife-ear. He had a good job in your father's service. He'd be throwing that away."

"What? You can't be serious. You know my father would never send him away for that," Elissa was shocked. Ashlyn had been a girl only a few years older than Elissa when she'd been assigned to the teyrn's daughter as a maid. Elissa thought of the girl as more of a friend than a servant.

"Perhaps. It doesn't matter now, though, does it?" And there it was. Ashlyn tried to choke back a sob, but her stony shell cracked and her mouth stretched into a feral grimace. Her wide eyes squeezed shut against the tears that tried to spill out.

Elissa made soothing noises and gathered the elf into her arms. The dam broke and Ashlyn's shoulders shook as sobs tore through her body. She rubbed the elf's back through her thick jacket and stared at the walls of the tower flickering in the firelight.


	13. Chapter 13

"My lord!" a shout drew Maric out of his frozen revere. One of the scouts ranging out ahead of the king's search party was trotting back down the road. The blizzard had blown itself out as fast as it appeared and other than an occasional drifting flake, the sky had cleared by the time the sun stained the horizon with dawn's brilliant colors.

Maric kicked his tired horse into a sluggish canter and caught up with the scout. The man nodded and wheeled his horse, charging back down the road with Maric on his heels. They were surrounded on all sides by snowy hills and dense trees. Fresh snow coated everything in sight. Maric and his escort rounded the end of a low hill and he caught sight of an old hilltop fort. The road curved around the hill and Maric saw more of his scouts clustered around a sleigh stopped in the middle of the road.

Maric slid out of his saddle as he came along side and took in the scene with one quick glance. The horses were still standing, though their heads hung low and they looked miserable. Woolen blankets were tied around the beasts, and Maric suspected they were what once covered the sleigh's occupants. The bench of the sleigh was empty, but when Maric stepped onto the edge and peered in, he saw a form huddled on the floor, a single thin blanket clutched tightly in frozen limbs.

"Damn," Maric muttered, shaking his head.

"He put most of the blankets on the horses, stupid bastard," the scout shook his head, then glanced nervously at the king, "Begging your parden, my lord."

"No, he did it on purpose," the King replied as he stepped away from the sleigh, "Lady Cousland and her maid aren't here. He saved the horses so they could carry the ladies to safety."

"You think so my lord?" the scout frowned, "But where are they? We found no sign along the road."

Maric spun slowly in a circle, eyeing the looming trees until he got his bearings, "I'm willing to bet money they're that way."

The scout followed the king's gaze and the confusion in his face cleared. He was still skeptical when he answered, "You think they made it all the way to the fort, my lord? It's a good distance off the road. Lady Cousland would know better than to leave the road."

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" the king answered and sent the scout to gather his comrades. The king waved to those remaining and they fanned around their ruler to begin the long slog through frozen snowbanks.

"A rough climb," one of the scouts muttered as he glanced up the hill. Trees blocked their sight of the fort and all eyes were locked on the ground searching for suspicious drifts.

They hadn't gone much further when a startled gasp drew all eyes up the hill. Maric had to bite back a cry of relief when Elissa's elven maid stepped out from behind a large tree, one mittened hand held up to her throat. The girl dropped down to the ground in terrified supplication and Maric hid a grimace of distaste.

"Help her up!" he ordered his startled men, who scrambled to help the elven girl up.

"My…L-lord," the girl chattered, her large elven eyes were huge her head swiveled to take in the soldiers crowding around.

"Lady Cousland?" Maric raised an eyebrow once the girl was back on her feet.

"S-she's in the tower," the elf gulped, "Safe."

"Thank you," Maric nodded his head and jerked his chin to the soldiers, "Go set up camp at the base of the hill. Take her with you – carefully."

"Your order, my king," the scouts supporting the maid turned and hurried her down the hill. Maric peered up the long slope and sighed, pushing on.

Elissa was just putting the last of their meager wood supply on the fire when Ashlyn returned. Her back was to the door, and she turned in surprise.

"You're back early," she said as she turned. She froze for an instant and her hand flew to the dagger at her waist. She spun into a crouch as the massive intruder hunched through the low tower door.

"Where's my maid? Who are you?" she demanded, shifting her grip on the dagger. Whoever it was, he was huge, made even more so by the heavy fur clothing he wore. Gloved hands appeared and one hand pushed the large fur hood back while the other pulled at a woolen scarf that covered the intruder's face.

"She's fine, and I suppose I'm your dashing rescuer," Maric glanced at the doorway, "Although I suppose my entrance could have been better."

"You…what? _Maric?_ " Elissa stood from her crouch, her expression a war of shock and relief.

"Oh, are we that familiar already? Good," Maric crossed the short distance between them and pulled Elissa into a rough embrace. He was not gentle, and Elissa could feel the emotions raging in the King as he crushed his frozen lips against her. The sensation was shocking and so very arousing that Elissa couldn't hold back a soft mewl of regret when he drew back. His breath hitched and she saw a muscle jump in his jaw. She dragged her eyes up to meet his gaze, and Elissa nearly choked at the raw emotion roiling in their blue depths. The king, normally so guarded, was doing nothing to hide his feelings.

"I..uh…that was nice," Elissa shook her head before demanding, "What are you doing here?"

Maric blinked and a rueful smile split his lips, "I honestly expected to be scolded for taking such liberties on your person before other inquires."

"I am freezing, terrified, and hungry. I'll give you more liberties than that if it'll get any of those taken care of first," Elissa said tiredly, fatigue and the shock of Maric's kiss making her muscles feel like jelly.

"Oh my," the king murmured, "Fear not, my lady. I've already got my men setting up camp at the bottom of the hill."

"Did you see my driver? Is he alright?" Elissa asked as he helped her out the tower door.

"He didn't make it, I'm afraid," Maric said somberly, "He used most of the blankets to protect the horses. They're alive, barely."

Elissa nodded curtly and put her head down, following silently as Maric led her back down the trail he'd broken in the snow. They descent was slow going, and the sun was high in the sky by the time they reached the bottom. Maric's men had their camp set up. Domed fur lined tents sprouted from the ground like mushrooms and there was a large bonfire going in the middle. Several of the soldiers were setting up an oversized domed tent for the horses.

"My lady," a scout trotted up and bowed quickly to the king and his shadow, "Your maid is asking after you. She's in the middle tent."

Elissa nodded numbly and allowed Maric to lead her to the tent. He held the flap open and helped her inside. He cinched the tent flap closed behind her and she could hear him giving orders to his men as he walked away.

Ashlyn sat in the middle of the tent next to a small glowing brazier. It gave off a great deal of heat and Elissa gratefully sat down next to the exhausted elven girl. She pulled off her thick gloves and started to unbutton her heavy fur jacket with half frozen fingers.

* * *

"Go to Highever," Maric said tersely to his senior scout, an experienced outdoorsman Maric had known for years, "Take whatever supplies you'll need. We'll make do. Tell the teyrn, and no one else, what happened. Tell him that I'm taking his daughter back to Denerim. She'll remain as my guest until Wintersend."

"As you command, my lord," the scout sketched a bow.

"Maker watch over you," the king said somberly as the scout backed away. He turned back watch the rest of his soldiers tear the camp down. They'd risen at first light to eat a hot breakfast and then strike camp. No one wanted to be out in the bitter cold longer than they need to be.

Maric eyed the horses as they were blanketed and saddled for the ride. He nodded his head to the two draft horses rescued from Elissa's sleigh. They had recovered somewhat from their ordeal after a night in warm tent, but they still looked exhausted and terrified.

"I'll carry Lady Coulsand on my horse," he said thoughtfully to another scout that appeared at his elbow, another trusted veteran, "Carry her maid behind you. Put the supplies we'd carry onto the draft horses. It's about all they can handle at this point."

"At once, my lord," the scout saluted and hurried over to see Maric's commands carried out.

"Can your horse carry both of us?" Elissa replaced the scout at his elbow and he glanced down her. She was once again bundled against the cold, with only her eyes peeking out from her scarf and fur lined hood.

"You weigh far less than my armor," Maric barked a short laugh, "And he carries that without complaint."

"I suppose," Elissa eyed the horses skeptically until the scouts pulled Maric's charger out of the tent and she realized just how much larger it was than the rest of the mounts, "He's as big as the draft horses."

"I'm not exactly small," Maric reminded her with shrug. They watched in silence as the soldiers finished the last of their tasks. Elissa watched quizzically when one of the scouts mounted and rode out long before the others were ready.

"He's going to Highever," Maric answered her unspoken question, "He'll relay everything to your father."

Elissa's shoulders slumped and she nodded. She said nothing more as she turned away and went to stand with her maid. She wrapped a long arm around the somber elf, a gesture that surprised Maric. There was a familiarity between the two that was uncommon between nobles and servants.

It wasn't long before the camp was torn down and one of the scouts led Maric's charger over. He accepted the reins and swung up into the saddle. Elissa stepped up silently and he extended his arm. She leapt easily into the saddle behind him. His charger snorted and shifted as he adjusted to the change in seat on his back. He settled quickly, and Maric nodded to the scout beside him with Elissa's maid at his back. They set off at an easy ground eating pace, mindful of Elissa's fatigued horses. Maric was acutely aware of the woman pressed against his back. Her hands rested easily at his hips, but he could practically feel her vibrating with tension. After a time, he glanced around and jerked his chin to the scouts riding protectively on either side of their king. They withdrew immediately to trail behind Maric.

"What's bothering you?" he asked the road in front of his horse's head.

"I got my men killed," her answer was immediate and sullen.

Maric shifted his grip on the reins so he could reach down to pull her hand on his hip further forward. She could either resist or lean forward, and he was glad when she slowly leaned forward to rest against his back. Her arms tentatively reached around his waist and he laid his free hand across her gloved hands where they almost met across his stomach. He felt a brief moment of irritation that they both wore such bulky winter clothing.

"You did nothing wrong, my dear," he said softly when he felt her head rest against his back, between his shoulders, "None of us realized the weather would turn."

"I shouldn't have gone at all," she said bitterly, "It was a stupid reason, and no worth the lives of six men."

"That's the worst part about hindsight, Elissa," Maric shook his head, his own past failures rearing up in his mind, "It's brutal and honest. The only thing we can do is try to learn from our mistakes and try our best not to repeat them."

Elissa was silent for a long time, and Maric let her have her peace. He knew regret plagued her, but he couldn't help taking guilty pleasure from the feeling of her body pressed against his back and hips. It had been a long time since he'd been so close to a woman, let alone a woman he was coming to care for. He was suddenly grateful she rode at his back when a rush of heat and pressure began to pool deep in his gut.

 _Maker's breath_ , he huffed a short breath, _she's barely more than a child, you lecherous beast._ Maric tried to beat his rebellious body into submission, but the memory of her lips pressed against his when he'd pounced on her in the tower tortured him. And the soft mewl when he drew back made him catch his breath again, just thinking about it. He bit down hard on his lip and took several deep breaths.

"Are you all right, my lord?" Elissa asked against his back and Maric cursed himself.

"Fine, my lady," he answered quickly, patting her hands at his waist reassuringly. Silence reigned again, and Maric forced himself to think of the armory inventory he had waiting for him on his desk back in Denerim.

 _Five hundred longswords, steel_

 _Two hundred short swords, steel_

 _Two hundred shields, wood, steel banded_

"Maric?" her voice cut into his thoughts again and Maric had to close his eyes briefly. He'd almost gotten her out of his head.

"Aye?" he answered easily, staring straight ahead at the snowy road.

"Why did you kiss me?" Of course she would ask that. Why wouldn't she? Maric sighed.

"Because I am a fool that can't control his own body," he muttered and winced when the words came out.

"I see," was her only reply and he wished he could face her.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," he shook his head.

"I didn't say anything, my lord," she answered quietly. Back to the honorifics, damnit.

"I _mean_ ," he said emphatically, "That I was bloody terrified the whole time we searched for you. I tore out of the capital like a lunatic, searched half the coast, and when I found you alive and well, I couldn't _not_ kiss you senseless. I thought I'd lost you."

There was silence for a time, and Maric found himself holding his breath without realizing it.

"I wasn't aware I was yours to lose," there was a hint of steel in her response and Maric smiled.

"I overstep myself, forgive me," he said, squeezing one of her hands at his waist.

"I am grateful though," she mumbled against his back, flexing her muscles to stretch without removing her arms from his waist, "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't followed."

"Probably command the snow to get out of your way," he answered lightly, "I wouldn't be surprised if it did."

"I'm not _that_ imperious," she bit back, but he heard a smile in her words.

* * *

"Ah, home," Maric heaved a happy sigh as the rescue party thundered into the palace stable yard just as darkness blanketed the capital. Servants swarmed forward and Maric handed Elissa down to a pair of waiting maids. They rushed the exhausted noblewoman into the palace without a backward glance.

Which was good, because Maric spotted Loghain waiting with crossed arms and a thunderous expression.

"I'm alive and we rescued Bryce's daughter," Maric shrugged when he dismounted and joined his friend. He was stiff from the ride, and all he wanted was a hot bath and hotter mulled wine.

"And was it worth you tearing off into the countryside in the middle of a blizzard?" Loghain asked, his lip curled into an angry snarl.

"Actually, yes," Maric eyed him, "We were only able to save the lady and her maid. All the others perished. It would have been a complete tragedy if we hadn't gone searching."

"I see," Loghain subsided and eyed the king, "It was still daft."

"I know, my friend," Maric smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

Elissa prowled the halls of Denerim's palace as winter slogged on. The longer it lasted, the more frustrated she grew. She'd taken trips out to the city and even visited her family's estate in the capital. During the off season it was rarely used, save by occasional relatives. A caretaker watched over the house, and after one awkward visit to the shockingly empty building Elissa had not returned. Instead she returned to the guest rooms in the palace and stewed at the confinement.

True, her seeming house arrest was only in her mind and enforced entirely by the weather. She had run of the palace, even the more private areas generally reserved for the household. She'd visited the kitchens with her maid, spent time in the library, and eventually discovered the palace armory. She'd spent a few days recovering from her ordeal in the blizzard and the inevitable chill that had wracked her body with a rough cough for days, but after that the armory became an outlet for her frustration.

The armory was her intended target as she slipped through the dark halls of the palace. It was morning, just barely. The sun had not yet crested the horizon to wash over Denerim's snowy rooftops but Elissa had given up trying to sleep. There was too much rattling around her mind, and she needed to beat something senseless to relax. A living target would have been preferable, but Elissa was fairly sure pummeling the king was frowned upon. A training dummy would have to do.

Elissa's features slipped briefly into an irritated scowl as she crossed a chilly courtyard to get to the guard wing of the palace. In the weeks since she'd returned to the capital the king had been a picture of respectful courteousness. He invited her to the various dinners he hosted for other nobles, but always as just another guest. He took her out for winter hunting, but again, it was always in the company of other nobles. On one occasion he had invited her to a small family dinner but it seemed to have been to give Lady Anora someone to talk to for the evening.

In short, Elissa thought irritably as she ripped open the armory door with more force than was strictly necessary, the king behaved like a consummate gentleman. He made no move to pursue her further after their shocking hilltop kiss, and he also hadn't said anything further about the strange conversation during the ride back to Denerim. He smiled and laughed and kept her at a long arm's distance.

It was infuriating beyond belief. Elissa stomped her way into the armory and collected two training swords. She had dressed in her light leather armor back in her room and slipped out into the night. Elissa hefted the inexpensive steel swords to test their weight and then nodded to herself. They would do nicely for destroying a training target. She could happily pretend it was Maric's handsome face. Elissa closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. She wasn't even entirely sure why she was so furious. She wasn't some fainting maiden ready to swoon at the king's feet. She didn't need some lord standing over her for the rest of her life, forever to be labeled "So-and-so's wife" or "Lord-something's mother." That had never been a life she wanted.

Then why, she wondered to herself as she shouldered the weapons and stomped to the training yard door, did she so desperately want to kiss that inscrutable smile off of Maric's face every time she saw him?

Elissa's feet and mind stuttered to a startled halt as she stepped into the sand covered yard. She had expected the space to be empty at such an absurdly early hour. Instead she stared in wide eyed shock at Maric, who spun into a crouch and faced the intruder. He wore only a loose linen shirt open wide at the collar over dark leather breeches and boots. A simple leather thong tied his hair away from his face.

"I…erm, thought it would be empty," Elissa said slowly as recognition dawned on Maric's face and he relaxed. He shouldered the greatsword he'd been training with and shrugged.

"It usually is," Maric sucked in a few deep breaths and wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, "But I needed the workout."

Elissa tilted her head and eyed the king. She took a few slow steps across the sandy floor and into the light of the torches. Like the king her hair was tied back in a simple tail at the back of her head, but her hair was much longer and trailed down from her shoulder to her waist as she peered at him.

"Let me guess; you can't sleep?" she asked evenly as she stepped closer and Maric's eyes followed every movement she made. Her armor was not the heavier full body leathers one would wear in cold weather. She wore leathers her mother had given her years before, a relic of Lady Eleanor's days as the Captain of the Mistral. The boiled leather chestplate was molded to her womanly shape and capped with two small shoulder guards. Her arms were bare save for bracers that covered her forearms. Instead of leggings she wore a pleated leather skirt that allowed her to move freely but left her long legs bare. She wore knee high leather boots, but they did nothing to hide the long expanse of skin that flashed every time she shifted.

"That…is a safe assumption," Maric's gaze flickered across her body and it took all of Elissa's inner strength not to grin in vain smugness at the heat that flashed to life in his eyes.

"My rest was disturbed also," Elissa continued and waved her free hand to the training yard, "So I thought some exercise would help. I see we are of a similar mindset."

"It would seem so," Maric shrugged and looked at her quizzically as she circled him.

"I had resigned myself to facing a stuffed opponent," Elissa nodded to the battered training target Maric had been hacking great chunks from.

Elissa put all of her frustration and confusion of the last weeks into a small feral smile and slipped into a light stance on the balls of her feet. Her light blades flashed in the torchlight as she spun them in a showy challenge.

Maric watched her and that stupid inscrutable smile flashed on his lips. He hefted his greatsword from his shoulder and he settled it into a guard in front of his body.

"But since you're here, I'll use another dummy!" Elissa lunged and Maric was in the fight of his life.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Loghain stared hard at the King. They were alone in Maric's study.

"Why can't I?" Maric turned from the snowy private garden outside his window and raised an eyebrow. He sat down at his desk and propped his booted feet up on the edge.

"You already have an heir," Loghain growled, shaking his head slowly as if he could will away the king's absurd plan.

"And he'll remain that way. I don't see how that's part of the problem," Maric steepled his hands and stared at Loghain.

"She's half your age!" Loghain tried a different tactic as he crossed his arms. He glowered down at the foolish king, wondering how some of these absurd ideas came to life in Maric's head. He certainly couldn't blame the girl for leading Maric on. She'd avoided the king like he was leprous since he'd rescued her a month before, only coming out of her rooms when specifically invited. Winter was finally waning as First Month approached, and blessedly it wouldn't be much longer until Wintersend and her family's return to the capital.

"Loghain, I love you like a brother," Maric closed his eyes, "But I am neither a decrepit old man nor is she a girl in braids. It would be a fine match, and cement our ties with Highever."

"Our ties with _Highever_ are just fine," Loghain growled, "Despite their attempts to crawl into the lap of that whore the Orlesians call an empress."

"Your rough edges are showing, Loghain," Maric chided, frowning, " _I_ told Bryce to re-establish trade with Orlais, as you well recall."

"Why, Maric? Why after all this time do you suddenly want this?" Loghain threw up his arms and leaned forward over Maric's desk so he could pin his friend down with a stern look.

Maric was silent for a time and then he looked away, "I'm tired and alone, Loghain. I know I've got you and Cailan, but that isn't the same. When I look at her I see someone who challenges me, who isn't afraid to be strong when I can't be."

"You mean like I'm trying to be? Right now?" Loghain shoved away from the desk and threw himself into a wingback chair across from the king's desk.

"Yes well, I've no interest in bedding you," Maric's grin was feral and his laughter boomed through the study when Loghain groaned and put his head in his hands.


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh my sweet girl," Eleanor's eyes were full of tears when she threw her arms around her daughter, "We were so scared."

"I'm fine, Mother," Elissa hugged her mother fiercely for a moment before turning to face her father. She wanted to hang her head and wring her hands, but she was a Cousland. She would own her mistakes and she would stand tall as she learned from them.

She took a deep breath to speak, to tell her father how deeply sorry she was for getting her soldiers killed, but no words came out. She stood in mute silence for a moment while she met her father's gaze and then she gave a startled yelp as he dragged her into a tight embrace.

"Don't say a word, pup," he muttered against her ear, "You're safe, that's all that matters."

"But, I…," Elissa felt tears prick her eyes as he stepped back to give her room to breathe.

"No buts," he shook his head, "Every single one of my soldiers understand their duty. What happened was tragic. I've wept for them, and lit candles to the Maker in their honor. The only question is whether or not you learned from what happened."

"Yes, Father," Elissa nodded her head and swallowed around a knot in her throat.

"It won't be the last time soldiers die under your watch, my sweet girl," her father continued somberly, "What's important is that you make certain that their sacrifice was worth the cost."

"I…yes, Father," Elissa nodded again and reached into a pouch at her belt and sighed, handing it to him, "For what it's worth, here is the revised tax code, with the King's personal seal. Highever will not be impoverished."

Bryce accepted the document and nodded, but looked up when his daughter spoke again.

"It wasn't Loghain, as we thought. At least not entirely," she shook her head, "The suggestion came out of Amaranthine."

"Arl Howe? But why?" Eleanor, who had remained silent while father and daughter spoke returned to her husband's side.

"The why, I don't know," Elissa shook her head, "But that's how it slipped in. Amaranthine is a trading port like Highever, and it didn't even occur to the tax committee that this would do anything to harm trade."

"Except that Amaranthine does most of their trade through the Free Marches and Antiva," Bryce finished for her.

"And thus wouldn't have been effected by the sliding tariffs on goods from Orlais," she nodded.

"I'm going to have a long conversation with my good friend Rendon," Bryce's said grimly.

* * *

The Cousland estate hummed with life as the teyrn's household piled in for the annual Wintersend tournaments. Elissa could have stayed at the estate while winter kept her imprisoned in Denerim, but Maric had insisted she remain at the castle instead of "rattling around that empty house with only your maid and the caretaker."

But now her family had returned to the capital, and she had rushed down to the estate as soon as word had reached her. After meeting her parents and a hug from her brother, she rushed to her rooms at the back of the house. Her mother had whispered a quick parting word before going to join her husband for refreshments after their long journey.

Elissa pushed her bedroom door and grinned broadly, throwing her arms wide just in time to catch Alistair. He'd been pacing across the room when she opened the door, and he fairly launched himself into her embrace.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered against his hair. It was ragged and in desperate need of a trim. At a guess, he probably hadn't let anyone near his hair while she and Ashlyn were gone.

"You promised," he whispered against her chest, "You promised you'd be back by First Day."

"I know, sweetling," she kissed his head and then stepped back enough to close the door and draw him back to the fire. She eased down into one of the arm chairs that flanked the hearth and drew him into her lap. He curled his small frame against her breast and tucked his legs against the arms of the chair.

"What happened?" he mumbled against her neck, "No one would tell me. I saw the king's messenger, but Teyrn Bryce looked so terrified I didn't follow. I thought…he said you were fine, after the messenger left. He wouldn't tell me anything else."

"I was returning to Highever, but a storm blew in," Elissa ran a hand through his hair and stared into the flames, "We were trapped by the snow. A little bit lost. Ashlyn and I were alone. But then the King found us and took us back to Denerim. He decided it would be safer if we stayed here until the winter storms passed."

Alistair leaned back so he could stare at her with wide eyes, "The King rescued you? Himself?"

"He did," Elissa smiled and combed an errant lock out of Alistair's eyes. It was the same lock of hair that constantly fell across Maric's eyes if his hair wasn't tied back. Elissa felt heat bloom in her chest and tears prick her eyes. She drew Alistair in and hugged him fiercely.

"I won't leave you again, sweetling," she whispered fervently, "Never again."

* * *

Elissa kept to the family estate for most of the Wintersend festivities. She had no stomach for the tournaments, and her mother had to invent several creative excuses why her unmarried daughter didn't attend any of the minor fetes used as a front for nobles to arrange marriages for their children.

"You can't hide in here forever, pup," Bryce Cousland said to his youngest child one bright morning. She sat at a small table in the solarium sharing breakfast with Alistair.

"I can't?" his daughter raised an eyebrow and dropped a dollop of jam onto a small biscuit. She offered it to her father and he accepted with a rueful smile.

"I know you're still upset about last winter, Elissa. You should try to get out of the house and see the festivities. They'll take your mind off it," Bryce popped the biscuit into his mouth and chewed, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.

Elissa's face went blank and her gaze flickered to the boy sitting next to her. As he always did, the boy watched Teyrn Bryce with uncertain trepidation, though he did continue to slowly chew a mouthful of bacon.

"That's not…" Elissa trailed off and shook her head, "I'm sorry I've concerned you, Father. I'll do my best to attend to my responsibilities."

"Erm, yes," Bryce frowned at his daughter but she said nothing more. He sighed and kissed her cheek, "Do what you think is best. Give my love to your mother when you see her. I've got to go up to the palace for a bit."

"Yes, Father," Elissa nodded and looked away. He almost missed the way her lips pressed together. He filed that away to ask her about in private.

* * *

It was late that night when Bryce Cousland returned to the family townhouse. His wife and children were having a private supper, a welcome change from the whirl of Wintersend dinners they'd both attended and hosted. Bryce was grateful, because he wasn't sure he could have faced a house full of guests at that moment.

"You're back," his wife rose and greeted him warmly when he slipped into the private dining room tucked into the family apartments. She stuttered to a halt at the sight of his drawn face. She reached out and took his arm to draw him to his chair at the head of the table. She rushed to pour her husband a glass of wine while he stared in silence at the faces of his children. Elissa sat to his left, with the boy Alistair tucked against her side. The boy was everywhere these days, and Bryce still felt ill when he thought about someone outside the family seeing the child. It had taken Eleanor refusing to go to the Capital with him to finally make him relent and bring the boy. Fergus sat on his right, and while his eldest returned his stare with open curiosity and a touch of worry, his youngest stared resolutely down at her plate.

"Bryce," Eleanor's voice cut through his thoughts and he turned his head. She held out a goblet of wine that he accepted with a nod of thanks. He took a long drink and watched his wife return to her seat at the opposite end of the table. His small, beautiful family. And Elissa's foundling, he sighed heavily.

"Father, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost," Fergus could take the silence no longer.

"I went to the palace today," he began slowly to nods from his wife and son. His daughter sat as still as a statue.

"I thought it would be for the usual negotiations and paperwork," Bryce raised his eyebrows and stared blankly into his wine, still feeling shell shocked, "But it was a private audience with the King."

"What did he want, Father?" Fergus exchanged a worried glance with his mother before turning back to his father.

"He wants…" he trailed off, feeling his throat tighten as the shock hit him anew. He coughed and tried again, "He kindly and respectfully asked for my daughter's hand in marriage."


	16. Chapter 16

The estate was in an uproar. Elissa could feel it in her bones. She had retreated to her rooms to wait for the inevitable. What little of her mind that didn't feel numb couldn't help but find humor in her plight. It was like she was some kind of maiden sacrifice waiting for a great beast to sweep in and eat her whole.

"You're sure about this, pup?" her father asked quietly. She hadn't even noticed him slip into her room, so preoccupied with her thoughts she was.

"I am, Father," she said softly, regret forcing her to look away from his loving eyes.

"You want to, Elissa. I can see it in your eyes," her prodded gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"I…expected it was coming," she said slowly and then hasted to reassure her father, "He was nothing but a gentleman, I swear. I…suspected this was on his mind when he made no move to pursue me for…baser wants."

She looked away then and cleared her throat, "Then Teyrn Loghain grew frosty with me. As he hadn't even acknowledged I existed before First Month, I suspected they had quarreled. About me."

"Oh pup," Bryce turned his daughter and hugged her tightly.

"I want to say yes, Father," she whispered against his chest, "I want it very badly. I can't."

"Why not? Why won't you tell us?" her father stepped back and ducked his head to look into her eyes.

"I…would rather not discuss it, Father," Elissa closed her eyes and he sighed. He gave her another quick hug and then slipped out of the room as quietly as he'd entered.

* * *

"Listen to me carefully," Elissa said, a hint of her old steel back in her voice, "I'm not leaving you. We're going to go home. We'll train and you'll try to avoid your arithmetic and I will scold you and it will be just like before."

The boy standing before her sniffed mightly and gave a watery laugh. He stood with his back to her fireplace and she had her hands on his shoulders. She shook him gently with each proclamation. She took a deep breath to continue reassuring Alistair that she was not abandoning him, despite what the other pages said, when her door flew open.

"He's here!" Ashlyn hissed urgently, and Elissa had enough time to spin, drawing Alistair against her back when King Maric stormed past her maid. He looked like a magnificent golden lion like on his family's crest. His silver touched gold hair flew around his head and his blue eyes snapped with lightening that matched the thunder in his face.

" _No?_ " he said incredulously, "You told your father ' _no'_?"

"I did, my lord," she said quietly, raising her chin to hold her head high.

"But _why?_ " he demanded, shaking his head, "I though…I was sure…"

"I am flattered beyond reason at the offer, my king," she said, "But I simply cannot accept your proposal."

"Definitely beyond reason, that's for sure," Maric muttered under his breath. He fixed her with a steely gaze, "I'm not leaving until you tell me why refuse to marry me."

A soft gasp drifted across the room, and it wasn't from Elissa. Maric's face darkened and he looked around the room, searching for whomever was eavesdropping on the private conversation. Elissa closed her eyes and took a slow deep breath. She shifted, drawing a terrified Alistair from behind her back. Maric's face lost its color at the sight of the boy. She held Alistair close at her side with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other lightly gripping the trembling lad's arm.

"I cannot marry you, my king, because I will not allow this boy to be abandoned again," she said with soft defiance.

Maric stared helplessly at Elissa and the boy. He couldn't even think of the child as anything more than that. _The boy._ He'd had to harden his heart against the pain of sending his son away, and though he'd indulged in an occasional self-pitying dream of swooping in to lift his son into his arms and smother him with the love Maric hadn't even given his first born, he knew such thoughts were nothing more than Fade dreams.

"I will only marry if Alistair goes with me," Elissa's voice cracked, and Maric could hear the tears she was holding back, "And I would never ask that of you."

Maric shook his head in disbelief and crouched down so he could stand in front of his son. Maker, the child looked exactly like Cailan at the same age. His coloring was darker and his hair was cropped short, but there was no mistaking their shared features. The lads would be able to use each other as shaving mirrors when they were grown.

"Alistair, would you give us a moment, please?" he asked softly, meeting his son's steady tear stained gaze. The lad looked up to Elissa after a moment and she nodded, sending him off with a gentle push. Alistair stepped away but paused at Maric's shoulder.

"Please don't hurt her," the boy whispered softly and Maric had to squeeze his eyes shut against waves of self-castigation. He was a monster. He should never have listened all those years before, when he'd sent the boy away. He should have been stronger.

The door clicked shut behind Maric's back and he took a deep breath. He rose to his feet and reached for Elissa's hand. She didn't fight him when he drew her to sit on the edge of her large bed. She settled next to him and he pulled her hand into his lap, covering it with both of his.

She didn't say anything, for which he was grateful. He gathered his thoughts and finally nodded.

"Alistair's mother isn't dead," he said softly, the words tumbling from his lips. He'd never had to tell anyone the story. Anyone who knew had been involved from the start.

"She's alive, but she's far away. When…when she…" he broke off, grunting as memories assaulted him, "I had no idea she was pregnant when she left. She brought Alistair to me after he was born. She knew that Alistair would be seen as a threat to Cailan, but she was in no position to care for a child. She begged me to hide him, to give him a normal life away from court intrigue and…her life. I promised. I swore he'd grow up happy and healthy, and know nothing about how stupid his father was."

"But…how did he find out? Alistair knew you were his father," Elissa breathed, and Maric nodded.

"Because the lad is wickedly intelligent. It's a long involved story, and I'll tell you one day. Right now..." Maric sighed.

"None of this changes the matter at hand, my lord," Elissa squeezed his hand, "And it only reaffirms what I said. I will not abandon him, and you will never be able to acknowledge him as your son. This will not work."


	17. Chapter 17

Fergus and Oriana's wedding was the event of the year. Nobles from across Thedas attended, filling Highever's cathedral to bursting. The King and his family were in attendance, and the entire event was a beautiful, magical, horrible nightmare for Elissa.

She'd stood at Oriana's side while the Revered Mother spoke the Maker's blessings over the happy couple, and it had taken all of Elissa's willpower not to burst into ugly tears in front of everyone. She couldn't even bring herself look at Maric, but she felt his eyes drilling into her during the entire interminably long ceremony. She wanted to scream, to rage at him, to punch him in his beautiful face. More than anything though, she wanted to feel his arms around her as they had in that one beautiful instant in a hilltop fort.

The happy couple rushed out of the chantry under a storm of confetti and Elissa could only sedately retreat with the rest of the procession. The procession that walked within an arm's length of the King's seat of honor. He stood implacably in his great shining silverite armor and just…stared at her. There was nothing to read in his blank expression. She expected anger, maybe even sadness if she felt romantic, but there was nothing. He simply watched her.

All she could do was lift her chin and show him that no, she was not going to pine for what she could not have. She had not tried to barter her hand in exchange for acknowledging Alistair. She had accepted the impasse with resigned sadness and moved on with her life. She and Alistair were both heartbroken and miserable. They threw themselves into training upon returning home to Highever after Wintersend. The boy picked up martial skills at a breath taking pace, and as his eleventh birth day approached Elissa had commissioned a very special present for him. She planned to give it to him as soon as the chaos surrounding Fergus' wedding passed.

And thus here she stood, willing the banquet reception for Fergus and Oriana to _just end_ so she could retreat to her room, give Alistair his present, and then probably get very, very drunk.

She drifted through the crowds of wedding guests. She made polite conversation and pretended she didn't hear when people dug her for details about her almost engagement to the King of Ferelden. There had been no way to keep it hidden. Servants gossiped, and gossip reached the nobles. All of Ferelden knew that Elissa had flatly refused the King's hand, and no one could understand why. Some looked at her with pity, and those were the worst.

When she could take no more Elissa retreated from the party. She did not storm out dramatically, or even slink out with her head down like she wanted to. She simply settled into the shadows and disappeared. She made her way to the back of Castle's Highever's sprawling grounds until she reached her mother's private garden. She sat on a stone bench and took several heaving breaths to clear her jumbled thoughts. The fresh spring air did wonders for her mind, but her heart still felt sick. Self-inflicted heart break was not how she imagined she'd leave the world, but as each beat of her heart sent a stab through her soul she didn't see how there would be any possible way to survive like this.

"How did you do that, exactly? One moment I was looking right at you and the next you vanished," Maric's voice paralyzed Elissa's muscles. She could only stare wide eyed as he stepped into the garden and her line of sight. Forget how she disappeared, how had he moved so silently in all that armor?

"Cat got your tongue, my lady?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his mouth. He didn't look nearly heartbroken enough for Elissa's liking, and it made her furious.

"Trade secret," she snapped, "What do you want, Maric?"

He raised his eyebrows and stopped in front of her, "I wanted to talk to you. I've been trying to for days, but for some reason you're avoiding me like I carry the plague."

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," she refused to meet his gaze.

"Elissa," his voice was implacable, irresistible. She closed her eyes, exhaled once, and then tilted her head to look up at him.

"Do you love me?" he asked simply, all sign of his amused smile gone.

"Of course I do," she answered immediately, crossing her arms defensively, "But that makes no difference to anything."

"You love him more, then?" he asked, tilting his head. His golden hair was tied back in a severe tail and without its softening effect his features took on a hawkish elegance.

"What? What kind of absurd question is that?" she stood up, planting one fist on her hip and brandishing the other at his lion embossed breast, "You are a man grown with everything he could possibly want at his beck and call. He's a defenseless boy who's been abandoned by everyone who could possibly love him, _including his mother._

"This isn't about who loves who more," she snapped, stabbing her fingers into his breastplate, "It's about someone finally doing right by a boy who never asked for any of this horse shit. If that means I have to give up what I want to protect him, I will do it with a smile on my face."

"I see," he nodded and absently raised a hand to her arm. That idiotic smile was back on his face, as though he was glad she insulted him.

"What the hell do you want, Maric?" Elissa's shoulders deflated and she shrugged off his touch. If she let him touch her she wouldn't be able to hold her tears back.

"You," he said simply and raised an eyebrow, shrugging one armored shoulder.

"Well, I suppose neither of us gets what we want then," she tried to turn away, to run from his taunting words, but she was stopped short by a strong armored gauntlet on her arm. He did not grip her hard, but she might as well have been in a vice grip. Elissa felt livid fury, and she snapped her head back around.

Before she could say a word Maric crushed her against his armored chest. It was hard, cold, and uncomfortable, but she couldn't stop the shiver that made her limbs tremble when his hands swept against her hips and slid up her back. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he simply pressed his forehead to hers and took a deep breath.

"Knowing my son has such a passionate guardian humbles me," he said softly, "You've stood strong for him when no one else would. Not even me."

Elissa stayed very still and Maric continued, his voice a deep rumble that she felt in her bones.

"I wrote his mother and begged her to release me from my promise," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I explained everything. Alistair figured out the truth on his own, and the uncomplicated life I tried to give him wasn't working. I told her about a woman I fell in love with the night I saw her put her own life before that of a child, for no reason other than _it was the right thing to do._

"And then I waited. I wasn't sure she would answer, or that she would even get my letter," Maric took a deep steading breath and lifted his head so he could smile down at Elissa, who's eyes were huge and somber.

"She answered," Maric said softly, "And so I'll ask you again, Lady Cousland, will you honor me by becoming my wife and mother to my son Alistair?"

Elissa took a sharp breath and trembled under Maric's steady gaze. Her lungs weren't working properly, so all she could do was nod her head in a quick jerk. He smiled and dipped his head to brush his lips against hers, and Elissa sucked in another sharp breath. She leaned in and slanted her mouth hungrily against Maric's. She wanted him to understand, to feel how badly she wanted him. Her fingers scrabbled against his unyielding armor and she felt him huff a laugh.

" _Get away from her!"_ a piping scream froze them in place and in the next instant a shadow hurtled through the dark garden.

A lifetime of training had Maric moving without thought. He twisted, tucking Elissa behind his body and raised his arm against the downswing of a blade he could hear hissing through the hair. It slammed into his armored forearm and shattered into a cloud of wooden splinters.

 _Splinters? Who the hell would attack with a wooden sword?_

Maric blinked and lowered his arm. Alistair stood before him, staring in surprised rage at the hilt of his destroyed weapon. He looked up slowly and met Maric's gaze.

There was hatred there. A lot of it. Alistair tossed the useless hilt and flew at the king.

"Get away from her!" the boy screamed again as Maric caught him by the collar. The boy lashed out with a leather clad boot and hit the back of the King's knee. Maric grunted and almost stumbled, more surprised and impressed than anything else.

"Alistair!" Elissa gasped out, "Stop that this instant!"

"No! I won't let him hurt you!" the boy hollered fiercely and then choked a sob, "You can't do this to her! She's not like my mother! You can't hurt her and throw her away!"

"Oh," Maric's startled expression softened and he released Elissa so he could hold the boy still. It took a moment but the boy finally stopped thrashing. His cheeks were streaked with angry tears and he had splinter dust all over his leather jerkin. The boy gulped a few times and then shifted his gaze between Maric and Elissa, waiting for his expected punishment.

"Alistair," Maric drew the boy's attention, "Let's be clear about a few things."

"First," the king released one arm and raised a gauntleted hand to lift a single finger, "I will never, ever, hurt Lady Elissa, either bodily or her honor. Do you understand?"

Alistair was a little wild eyed, but he nodded because that's what Maric seemed to be waiting for.

"Second," another finger joined the first, "Your mother was not some serving girl I bedded and left to fend for herself. Your mother is a wonderful woman I cared deeply for, and she is very much alive. Do you understand that?"

Alistair shook his head in a vigorous negative and Maric laughed, "At least he's honest. I'll explain more later."

"Third," Maric continued quickly, raising another finger, "Lady Elissa has agreed to marry me."

Horror filled Alistair's face and he looked helplessly to Elissa. Before she could reassure Alistair, Maric continued.

"And you are going with her," he squeezed the boy's arm to draw his attention back, "I have a great deal to make up for, but the first thing that springs to mind is to tell the world that you are my son and I am damned proud of that. Come home with me."

Alistair stared for several moments and then sniffed back a tear. He looked up at Elissa, who couldn't help the wide smile spreading across her lips. Alistair's eyes widened and his head snapped back to Maric.

"That…that means," Alistair hesitated and ducked his head.

"Yes?" Maric drew the word out, wanting the boy to say it for himself.

"Will Lady Elissa be my mother?" the boy's words were barely above a whisper. He stared at Maric, his eyes huge. He looked as though he was afraid uttering the words would make them take it all back.

"That is _exactly_ what she will be, my boy," Maric said fiercely, drawing the lad into his arms. Alistair did not resist. He looked stunned, and he stared at Elissa over Maric's shoulder. She nodded, and slowly, ever so slowly, Alistair lifted his arms around Maric's neck. The king closed his eyes. Had anyone asked, he would have adamantly denied that tears fell from his eyes.

* * *

"In retrospect, I'm very glad I didn't give him his birthday present early," Elissa murmured as Maric closed her bedroom door. Alistair had burst into tears and cried himself to sleep in Maric's arms. Rather than carry the boy through the castle to the dormitory where he normally slept, Elissa had led the way to her own room and they'd tucked the child into her fur covered bed.

"Oh, what is it?" the king raised an eyebrow and offered her his arm. They had a wedding reception to crash.

"A silverite longsword," she laughed and leaned her head on his armored shoulder.

"That…would have been unfortunate," Maric shook his head and flexed his arm where Alistair had shattered the training sword, "He's got a solid swing, I'll give him that."

"Mhmm," Elissa smiled and reached up a hand to Maric's cheek. He looked at her, surprised and then grinned when she dragged his face down to hers for a long slow kiss that left both of them flushed when they broke apart.

"Now, shall we go be absolutely horrible and ruin my brother's reception?" she adjusted her skirts and smiled brightly.

"Let's do that," Maric grinned, and as he let her lead him back to the great hall, Maric sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker for sending someone who could be so strong, even when the king wasn't.


End file.
